


Stolen Moments

by rosetwopointoh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Spoilers for Smuggler Storyline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:10:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 77,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetwopointoh/pseuds/rosetwopointoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What don't we see between a Smuggler and her number one farmboy from Ord Mantell? There's a lot that's gotta go on while they're traipsing the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning: Taris

**Author's Note:**

> It all goes to Bioware/Lucasarts/etc. Only the plot bunnies are mine, and even those are debatable.
> 
> HERE THERE BE SPOILERS.
> 
> This story follows the Smuggler storyline--there are mentions of the plot but not a ton of explicit details. If you are completely unfamiliar with SWTOR, you might get a little lost, though hopefully you can follow along well enough with the details I do include.
> 
> If you are concerned about spoilers, I am including the planets in the chapter names.
> 
> Rating will go up... I haven't decided if it will be as a separate piece to maintain the T rating here or not.
> 
> This is going to be a long ride--enjoy!

The beast in the cargo hold’s stomping shook the entire freighter--and Corso--awake. He could faintly hear Risha cursing a blue streak at the toothy monster, but the immediacy of his headache took more painful priority.

“Kriff,” he muttered, slapping a hand to his forehead, regretting it, and dragging it down his face. His bunk was not precisely where he wanted to be at the moment. Well, _awake_ was not exactly what he wanted to be, either. The base-brewed, probably illegal liquor the troopers called Rakghoul’s Blood was _nasty_ the next day.

He rolled out of his bunk and hit the floor. “They don’t call y’Grace fer nothin’, Riggs,” he muttered to himself as he painfully got up, his head swimming. Fumbling more or less blindly, he made it to his locker and started pawing through the closest medkit for a pain hypo.

“Riggs!”

He jumped, smacked his head on the shelf above him, and sat down hard, seeing stars. “Captain?...”

The door swished open, letting in _far_ too much light for this time of day and his hangover. He could faintly make out the shape of Captain Jaax’a Lannen in the doorway. “It’s a good thing I’m inclined to let your hangover remind you why I prefer my crew more or less sober when they make it back to the ship, hm?”

Corso grunted noncommittally and went back to looking for his hypo. His Captain came over and crouched down next to him, arm outstretched; it took a minute for his blurred vision to focus on the manna of the gods she held towards him. He abandoned his search to grip the steaming mug in both hands, then drained half of the scalding liquid in a gulp.

“Easy, Riggs. My own personal hangover remedy. Don’t go wasting it.”

He shook his head as he processed the taste of the sludge now coating his tongue. “ _Nasty!_ Guh!”

“Fresh from Hutta. Well, not the kaff. That’s Republic-issue. Not bad, really.” She plucked the pain hypo from the medkit that had spilled across the floor. “This, however, you might still need, given the whack you just gave yourself.” The hypo hissed against his shoulder and he felt cool relief seeping into his bones. She stood, graceful despite her own partaking in last night’s reveling, and started towards the door. “Up and at ‘em, Riggs.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Oh, and--that’s twice this morning, hm?”

Corso sighed. “Sorry.”

“You save my ass, I save yours, we’re on a _name_ basis of some degree. None of this captain-this and captain-that bullshit. Save that for sassing Imps.”

“Done.”

Jaax’a nodded and tossed the used hypo towards the trash recycler on her way out, the door swishing closed behind her. Corso sighed and stared at the mug in his hands, swirled the brown liquid around the cup, and upended the last of the mix down his throat. Shuddering, he stood, set the cup down on his workbench with a satisfying thud, and headed for the showers.

 _Thank the stars Taris has plenty of water,_ Corso thought as he stood under the hot spray, his mind clearing. He wasn’t sure what was in Jaax’a’s hangover remedy, but it worked. There was nothing like a water shower to wash a drunken night away, though.

 _Jaax’a._ Suddenly the events of last night which he’d so far ignored rushed back; he groaned and rested his forehead against the durasteel wall. Had he _really_ tried to make a pass at his captain?

Well, he hadn’t _tried,_ precisely, he realized. He _had_.

Kriff.

Kriff, kriff, kriff.

Meditatively, he realized he’d soaked his dreads again. Were they ever going to dry? Probably not as long as they were on Taris, and Governor Saresh had just asked them to go out past any of the military bases to some remote outpost to hoof it around this forsaken place some more. Brejik’s Run, she’d called it. As if it were some cheerful place. Ha.

Maybe they’d start sprouting plants. Would be good camo here on Taris.

His mind swirled back to his captain. Well, maybe he hadn’t screwed himself over too badly in her book. She _had_ come to his rescue this morning and hadn’t made mention of his nonsense last night.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t turned him down last night, either.

What had she said? If she ever needed a man to take care of her, she’d take up knitting?

Knitting. Corso snorted. The famed Republic-loving Captain Jaax’a Lannen, taking up _knitting_? Who thought of such a thing?

Well, it was his fool mouth that had brought it up. _Kriffin’ idiot. Why did you have to go and say she deserved a man who could take care of her?_

Well, she does, he mused.

Her earlier rebuke bubbled up. _“You save my ass, I save yours.”_

Well, maybe she did deserve someone who can take care of her. But that someone and Corso Riggs didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. 

Now he just had to remember _that_ the next time he was tipsy.

 

Captain Jaax’a Lannen strolled out of Governor Saresh’s office, official note which authorized their travel to Brejik’s Run loaded in her datapad and tucked in her breast pocket, scattergun and pistol hanging on her belt. She’d picked up a few things from the med-droid and was heading to the mess in the hopes of grabbing something better than a ration bar when she saw Corso coming out of the spaceport.

A particularly bad tangle with a nasty rakghoul coming out of a suicide mission to take out the notorious scavenger known only as the Locust (it was one of those times which had been both Jaax-saving-Corso and Corso-saving-Jaax) had more or less made mincemeat of his Mantellian armor. He was sad to see it go, but when Jaax appeared from the depths of her ship with a dusty duffel and pulled out a _very_ nice set of synthweave robes with layers of lightweight plastisteel sewn in, he was more than mollified, despite looking rather like a Jedi with a rifle. A trip to the vendors with Jaax’a’s commendations chip secured a set of Trandoshan greaves and a set of boots a trooper would cry over. She’d spent a few commendations on her blaster, giving it a solid upgrade, for which Corso nodded approval.

So it was a robed Corso who came out of the spaceport, hood down to show his face, rifle slung over his back. His dreads were pulled back, as always, and he moved with the sleek grace that gave away the layers of muscle on his body. Jaax’a took advantage of her shaded spot next to the stairs to look at him as he approached, oblivious. 

“Ah, so the flyboy did survive,” a trooper said, greeting Corso as he exited the mess. “Good ta see yer upright! Didn’ think yer would be!"

“Can’t let you guys get to any of the ladies, now, can I?” he replied, flashing a grin. Jaax’a’s stomach flip-flopped with more than one kind of hunger. _Hush,_ she told it.

“I’d thought you’d be leavin by now, with the Locust gone an’ the rakghoul lab cleared out.”

“Nah. Governor’s got somethin’ for us to do. Sendin’ us to Brejik’s Run or something.”

“Brejik’s?” Several troopers looked up in alarm. 

“No, man, you don’t wanna be goin’ out there,” one added.

“I follow my captain,” Corso said, and glanced over in Jaax’a’s direction as she emerged at the top of the stairs. He sketched a lazy bow in her direction.

“Betcha ‘e does more’an follow,” one muttered in the back. 

His neighbor guffawed. “I would!”

“Not unless you like a blaster shot where your extra parts are,” Jaax’a replied sweetly, then nodded to Corso and disappeared into the mess. Corso shook his head, waved to the troopers, and followed her inside. 

 

Stomachs settled, Jaax’a and Corso emerged into the thick soupy air that was typical of a late Tarisian morning.

“Need anything before we go, Riggs?”

“Stims, medpacks, ration bars, kaff?”

“No on the kaff, unfortunately, but yes on the rest.” She jerked a thumb towards the pack slung across her back.

“Want me to take that?”

“I got it.” She headed towards the taxi terminal and pulled out her datapad, handing it to the droid.

“Are you certain you wish to travel to Brejik’s Run, Captain Lannen, Master Riggs? It is a highly dangerous area.”

“Dangerous areas are our specialty.” She tossed a broad wink at Corso; he smirked.

“As you wish, Captain.” The droid turned to a pair of waiting speeders and punched in coordinates. “Your mode of travel is prepared." 

“Thanks,” Jaax’a said, throwing a leg over the closer speeder. She set off. “C’mon, Riggs! Race ya!”

“Yeeha, Captain!”

Three quarters of an hour later, Corso jumped off his speeder, the contents of his stomach roiling. A couple of close calls with upset nexu, pissed-off pirates and a tree branch  across the speeder path had turned their friendly match race into a race against injury.

“Why did we come here, again?” Jaax’a asked, voice almost plaintive.

“You’re the one who said we would,” he replied.

“Kriffin Saresh and her guilt trips,” she muttered. “It must be the lekku. Gotta be the lekku.”

“Weakness for Twi’lek, Captain?”

“Only sometimes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Fancy wearing a pair for me, Riggs?” she teased. To both of their surprise, a faint flush crept up his cheeks.

They argued with the outpost commander, who was bound and determined to get out of Brejik’s Run with or without his squadron and their civilian charges. Jaax’a appealed to their contact, Vealo, to keep him around as long as possible and she and Corso set off to collect what they could.

Under the cover of Jaax’a’s stealth generator they crept into the pirate camp--not to kill pirates, but to free nexu cubs, of all things--and got themselves smack in the middle of a mutiny. They hid behind a nexu cage, attempting invisibility, but the nexu was no fool. Suddenly the pirates were spraying fire across their hiding place, mutiny forgotten, and Corso ran out to give Jaax’a enough room to get to work with her grenades and scattergun.

Well into the fight, Corso got hit hard and went down beneath a pirate’s vibroblade. Jaax’a squeezed off a charged blast, pitching the pirate to the ground, and Corso rolled to his feet, chest heaving. She relaxed, the fight over. Suddenly he glanced her way and his eyes went wide. “Jaax!”

Jaax’a dropped and rolled to the next place she could take cover, her previous hiding spot exploding in a spray of rubble from the assault cannon held by the pirate captain who’d emerged from a moldy tent. Corso soared over the nexu cage to imprint the pirate’s face with the butt of his rifle, then dodged backwards, laying down fire. The pirate headed towards Jaax’a just as her pistol overheated. She pulled out her scattergun, spraying bolts and slowing the pirate, but only long enough for him to charge his cannon and fire.

Jaax rolled as far away as she could and waited to be hit--only to see Corso’s robes flying in front of her as he jumped in front of the shot, taking it square-on in the chest. Jaax’a ripped her last grenade off her belt and flung it, pummeling the pirate and leaving him permanently on the ground. The blast had sent Corso flying; she looked around wildly then spotted him, unmoving.

Jaax’a spared only a moment to fire at the mechanism holding the nexu cage shut before dashing to Corso’s side, pulling out her kolto packs. She yanked open the fastenings on his armor, pressed a pair of packs to his side, and began a diagnostic scan as the packs hissed and emptied into his body. The bruises softened, lacerations stopped oozing, and a cracked rib zipped; that one would take more than a couple of packs to knit. The scan told her what she already knew; critical damage, internal bleeding. _Helpful_.

“Dammit, Riggs, can you hear me?” She pulled out vials from her belt pouch and loaded them into an injector, opening his flak jacket to get better access to the worst damage. She pulled off the glove on her free hand to feel for the best skin, then pressed the injector down and watched it drain. He twitched.

“Corso!” She pressed her bare fingers to his throat, searching for his pulse. It was there, though erratic. _Not that it wouldn’t be after a direct hit to the chest like that._

The realization that he’d taken that for her, knowing that she had less protection than he and would have fared worse, flitted across her brain as she worked, pulling out a medpack and opening it. There was only so much more she could load him with before needing more help than they could get in the middle of pirate-infested nowhere. _Why?_ she thought. _It was my fault I wasn’t watching my own damn back._

As she worked, fingers skimming his clammy skin and seeking out more places needing kolto patches, she felt her own heart thrumming faster in her chest. “C’mon, Corso,” she murmured, checking his pulse in his wrist as she rubbed kolto over a blaster burn on the back of his hand. “Come back to me, buddy. Please.”

Suddenly his skin felt warmer against her hands and his eyes fluttered. “Jaax?” Her name caught in his throat; he couldn’t draw breath fully and his lips were tinged with blue. _More broken ribs, probably._

“Right here, Riggs,” she said quietly. She pulled a pain hypo out of the medpack and pressed it to his unmarked shoulder; he relaxed, if only fractionally.

“I got you,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a painful smile. She noted the split lip and, quickly as possible, swiped at it with a fresh kolto patch before pressing it to his cheek to ease the swelling that was already starting. He grimaced as much as he was able; kolto was not the best tasting thing in the galaxy.

Voices--pirate, not Republic--came from the far end of the compound. “Damn. We gotta move, Corso. Sorry.”

“I’m good, Cap,” he said, trying to stand.

“No, you’re not.” She helped him up, then propped him against her body and activated her stealth generator, pushing it into overload and hoping her mods would hold. “Let’s get you back to the outpost.”

They crept through the bodies they’d left behind and away towards the Republic camp. “Now they’re dumb, ugly and dead,” Corso muttered as he limped, leaning more on Jaax’a than he’d care to admit.

“Always are after you’re done with ‘em,” she replied, glad his sense of humor was intact, worried by how much she had to hold him up.

Eventually, Republic lookouts came into view and she deactivated her stealth generator, putting her free hand in the air. The troops immediately aimed at them, then, recognizing injured allies, the nearest ones came towards them at a full sprint.

“Whadda we got, Captain?” one asked.

“Loose nexu and a lot of dead pirates,” she replied, then nodded at Corso. “He needs the med-droid, stat. I’ll cover us.” The troopers wordlessly got their arms under Corso’s and more or less carried him at a trot back to base; Jaax’a followed, moving backwards with her weapons out until they were behind Republic lines and into camp.

 

Corso slowly came to with a thudding headache for the third time that day. However, it was the first that he’d done so with a view of his dozing captain, which was a plus.

The med-droid assaulting his senses, however, was not.

“Master Riggs! You are awake!”

“Shut it, tin man,” he muttered.

“No kidding,” Jaax’a replied sleepily in agreement.

“I am not made of tin, Master Riggs, but of durasteel,” the droid replied. “Your biosigns are much improved!”

“I figured, since I’m alive and all.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Master Riggs?”

“Shut up and give me a hypo.”

“‘Fraid you can’t have any more of those,” Jaax’a said, swinging her legs over the cot where she’d taken up residence. “How are you?”

Corso began testing various limbs, then began to draw a deep breath. Jaax’a reached out towards him. “Oh, that’s a bad idea...”

He winced as his chest expanded, tenderly wrapping an arm around his torso. “Ribs?”

“Yeah. Several. Not gonna poke anything vital now, but they ain’t gonna feel good for a while, either.”

“Kriff.” He breathed slowly through his nose, then glanced around the clinic. “I hate the smell of kolto.”

“I’m breakin’ you outta here, then. C’mon.”

“Captain Lannen, Master Riggs is in no shape to be in the Tarisian jungle! There are rakghouls, and nexu, and pirates, and--”

“Enough!” Jaax’a’s good humor had waned and her eyes flashed; the droid fell silent. She grabbed Corso’s boots from the foot of the bed and steadied him while he pulled them on, then helped him out the open doorway. He was dizzy and felt halfway drunk, but was on the whole in much better shape than when he’d arrived.

Vealo jogged over as they emerged from the tent. “The commander is staying, for now, thanks to you clearing out the pirate base above us.”

“Great. We need a place to sleep.”

“I was able to find a couple of bunkrolls, but there’s no room.”

“We’ll find a corner.”

“May I suggest by the civilians’ barracks? It’s quieter that direction.”

“Will do. Thanks.” She took the tightly wrapped duffel bags from him and she and Corso set off; the civs they had helped gladly moved boxes of supplies out of the way and promised to leave them be. Jaax’a yanked the ready-bunks out of the bags; they unfolded on the ground, inches of foam and blankets looking like the best thing in years.

“No protection from the bugs, but I’ve slept in worse places,” she said as she plopped down on one and pulled off her boots. Corso groaned in reply and more or less fell on top of his. “Ration bar?”

Corso moaned. “Really? That’s all you have to say is ‘ration bar’?”

“Highly unappetizing, I know. But you’ll be worse than hungover tomorrow if you don’t eat something. You don’t want to know how much I had to load you with... just to...”

Corso waited for her to finish, but she busied herself fishing out ration bars. “To what?”

Jaax’a sighed and looked up. She met his gaze, her eyes sober, their laughing twinkle gone. “To keep you from dying on me, Corso. You jumped in front of a kriffing _assault cannon_ at close range. Broken ribs, bleeding out internally--you shouldn’t be here still.”

He paused, musing. “Guess Lady Luck’s still shining on me.”

Jaax’a threw the ration bar at him. “Don’t you get it? You think you’re... _immortal_ or something. Yeah, I can patch you up, I can heal a lot of damage, but I can’t save you every time! One of these days it’s gonna be too much for me to fix, more than kolto or medpacks or stimvials or even a med droid can repair, and...” She gritted her teeth and looked away.

Corso had never had her anger directed at him before. It was a highly unpleasant experience, to put it mildly. The silence stretched.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not for what I did, but for scaring you.”

“Not--not scared.”

“Sure you weren’t, Captain.” He opened his ration bar.

She glanced up at him and he saw her eyes were swimming. “Don’t call me that.”

“Jaax’a.” His voice trembled slightly, her name gentle on his lips.

She was silent for a long moment. “Why aren’t you sorry, again?”

“Could never be sorry for saving you.” He took another bite of ration bar.

“ _Fek_ , Corso.” She rested her head on her arms, braced across her knees. “Still think I deserve someone who can take care of me? ‘Cause you’re not doing the greatest job of it.”

“Way I see it, I’m doing a fine one. You’re the one taking issue with it.” He pulled his boots off and stretched out on the mat, suppressing a groan of pain.

Jaax’a’s eyebrows knitted together in concern and she looked at her chrono. “You can have another hypo in a half hour,” she said. “More kolto in two. Just rest for now.”

He didn’t think he could, but in the end, he dozed fitfully, waking when Jaax’a gently felt his arm for a place not already bruised from hypos or crisp from blaster burns. The injector hissed and pulsed against his bicep. He glanced at his arm, then up at her.

“Still mad at me?” he asked, quietly.

“No, Corso,” she replied. “Wasn’t in the first place.” She paused, her throat working. “You were right. About me being scared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I... I need you not to be.”

“Why?”

“We’re in a dangerous business, Corso, and it’s not going to get any easier. My whole life I’ve lived not caring too much; you know that’s the only way you make it out alive.”

“And now you care too much.”

She didn’t reply, just let him meet her gaze squarely, letting her guard down just this once.

“Jaax.” He reached a hand out; she let it meet hers, their fingers brushing. The touch was electric; he felt the hair on his arms stand and saw a shiver run down her spine.

“Corso...” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Let’s... let’s get back to this when we’re safe on the _Sunsoarer_.”

“But we _will_ get back to this.”

After a pause, she nodded and squeezed his fingers gently. Corso smiled, mindful of the barely-healed split in his lip, and returned the gesture.


	2. Conversations Among the Stars

They took the next day to rest, playing sabaac with the citizens and generally being bored in the thick Tarisian miasma that passed for air. Jaax’a made a few holocalls, and by the end of the day Vealo came over to assure them that they had transport back to Olaris when they were ready, authorized by the governor herself. Jaax’a smiled, throwing a wink Corso’s direction.

The following morning saw them setting out with a highly capable trooper, although his companion’s personality left a little to be desired, and a Jedi who had also shown up to finish up Governor Saresh’s requests. Their daily allotment of rakghouls killed, a trip into the old, highly radioactive reactor (with more rakghouls as an aside) complete, they shouldered their gear and hoofed it to the waiting speeders to return to Olaris. The trip was uneventful; Governor Saresh thanked them personally for their visit and C2-N2 was, as always, inordinately happy upon their return to the _Sunsoarer_.

Risha was holed up in the cargo hold and Jaax’a had set C2 into the maintenance routine which would keep him busy most of the night. Jaax’a was in the main hold at the table staring darkly into a mug of chocolate when Corso appeared, his shirt in his left hand, his right containing a jar of kolto cream.

Jaax’a looked up and blinked: she’d caught glimpses of him shirtless before, but never quite so closely, and certainly not when he was decorated with such spectacular bruises as he was after their near-catastrophe.

“I know it’s a little... odd, Jaax’a, but... could you give me a hand? I can’t reach all of it, and it hurts like a bantha ran me over.”

“Not a bad comparison,” she said, taking the jar from him. He set his shirt down and planted his fists on the table, leaning forward over them, elbows locked. “Did you get the front already?"

“Couple hours ago, but it could prob'ly be done again.”

“Savin’ it for me, huh?” she teased, but her hands were gentle as they smeared cream over the glaring bruising. He hissed as she touched the road rash which speckled his shoulders. As she worked, the redness faded and the worst of the colors eased into muted mottling across his skin. “About-face, soldier.”

Corso snorted and turned, leaning against the table and gripping the edge tightly. She didn’t hesitate to dip her fingers back into the jar and start working on the explosion of blue and purple where the cannon had hit him hardest. He exhaled tightly while she worked, trying to avoid looking at her, focusing on the smell of the kolto instead of her soap.

“Should have let me give you more kolto,” she said. “Works better than the cream.”

“And makes me feel like a drunk,” he replied, biting off a more curt remark. “Kriff!”

“Well, that’s what you get for having an assault cannon shoot you thirty feet,” she replied, voice growing an edge. Her hands managed to remain gentle. “You’ll feel the ribs for weeks.”

“I know.”

Done with the cream, she spun the lid back on the jar. “Got something else that might help. Leave that off, I’ll be right back.” Corso set his shirt back on the table and sat carefully, wondering what she was up to.

He heard her footsteps, then the lid of another jar spinning off and an unfamiliar scent. She set the unmarked jar on the table, dipped her fingers in, and rubbed the salve between her hands.

“Old pain and bruising recipe. I have it made whenever I can. Can’t tell you how many thousands of years it’s been since this stuff has been popular now that we have kolto, but I tell you, it works.” She slid her hands under his dreads and began to work it into his neck.

“What is it?”

“Aranic and lavdar.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Aranic is poisonous by itself, but when treated right the extract is good for bruising, pain, stiffness. Lavdar oil--that’s the smell--helps it sink in to the skin and is stress and pain relieving.”

“Mmm.” His head had drooped forward and he felt his muscles strain and relax as her strong hands manipulated them beneath his skin.

“Exactly.”

In short order he was nearly asleep. He only dimly realized she’d stopped the massage, closed the jar, and wiped her hands off on a towel. “C’mon, flyboy,” she murmured to him.

“Thought we were gonna... talk or som’thin.”

“You’re half asleep. It’ll wait.”

“Promise?” he asked blearily.

“Promise.”

 

Corso woke to the ship thrumming gently. He sucked in a breath--good, no concerning cracks from his ribs. He glanced down at his chest to find the bruising much improved. He was interrupted from his self-examination by a knock on his door. “Hey, Riggs! Wanna haul your sorry ass outta bed and help me with these preflights? C2 is gettin’ in my way!”

“On it!”

Corso got up carefully, tugged on clothes, tied his dreads back and, after a long moment, left his Taris-swamped boots to dry and tugged on his extra pair of workboots. Pulling on a vest, he left his room in search of his captain.

“Where we goin’, Jaax’a?”

“Carrick,” she replied. “Don’t quite feel up to an extended stay on Nar Shaddaa just yet and we could use supplies.”

“Hyperdrive checks out... coordinates set.”

Jaax’a hit the intercom. “Risha, all buckled in down there?”

_“Ready when you are,”_ the slicer replied.

Corso glanced over the instrumentation and nodded. “Everything looks good here, Captain.”

She tossed him a look, then smiled, flicking on the comm. “Alright. Republic Command, this is the _Sunsoarer_ requesting permission for takeoff.”

“ _Destination?”_

“Carrick Station.”

_“_ Sunsoarer _, you are cleared for takeoff and orbit around Carrick Station.”_

The forcefields sealing the dock opened and the _Sunsoarer_ lifted smoothly, rotated, and began her journey.

Sitting in the cockpit with the stars streaking by, Jaax’a let her mind wander. Part of her wanted to run, and run fast, away from Corso. But another part of her--by a large majority--wanted this.

_I’ve run my whole life. Now I’m turning somewhat legitimate--doing the right things for people who need it in the Republic. He’s the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in years--if ever. Why_ not _?_

Corso chose that moment to disrupt her from her thoughts, bearing mugs of kaff. She hadn’t noticed him leaving.

“Thanks,” she said as she took the mug. “You look better today. Much less... green and yellow.”

“Gee, thanks,” he replied, smiling. He sat in his customary chair, leaning back. “Do you ever get tired of watching the stars?”

“Not really,” she said.

“Me neither,” he said.

They sat and sipped their kaff in soft silence, the ship thrumming beneath them as she coasted through space.

Corso set his mug down. “Jaax’a, I want to apologize for the other night.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because I propositioned you when I was drunk, and that’s not how I want this to be.”

“Have a little fun, now, Corso.”

“Jaax’a, when I asked if you’d consider something more, I meant _more_ , not just a drunken romp or two.”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like more to me.”

Corso sighed. “Yeah, well, it is more, but it’s not _more_ , do ya see what I’m sayin’?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Damn, Jaax, you know exactly what I mean!”

“Do I?” She smiled, showing teeth.

“ _Fek!_ Fine. Have it your way. Jaax’a, will you have dinner with me? It’ll probably have to be the cantina at Carrick Station, but...”

Jaax’a blinked several times, startled. “Not sure what you mean by ‘have it my way,’ but yes, I will.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? A proper date?”

“Well, I could have gone for any number of things, really.”

“You’re _exasperating_.” Corso folded his arms across his chest--carefully--and sat back in his chair.

“So I’ve been told. Guess you better get used to it, hm?”

Corso chuckled and shook his head. “Any number of things, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Like what?”

“Well, it’s been a long time since this girl’s been kissed properly.” _Ball’s in your court, Riggs. Now... what will you do with it?_ She felt her heart rise into her throat.

Corso blinked, then plucked Jaax’a’s mug out of her hand, set it down, and tugged her to her feet. His voice dropped as he stepped closer to her. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”

A shudder ran down Jaax’a’s spine and her stomach swirled. Corso rested a hand on Jaax’a’s hip, moving slowly as if taming a skittish beast, and trailed the fingers of his free hand across Jaax’a’s forehead and down to cup her cheek. He could feel her under his hands, almost vibrating, energy threatening to scatter under his palms.

Her hands hovered several places before coming to rest at his waist, largely away from any major bruises or busted ribs. Carefully he slid his hand from her cheek to the nape of her neck, cradling her skull in his hand, and gently pressed his lips to hers.

The vibrations flared into glowing desire; Corso fought the need to crush her body to his. Her hands gripped him firmly, pulling gently, which wasn’t helping. He wasn’t the type of man to go looking for women, and he knew from watching her turn men down most nights they spent dockside that she wasn’t always looking for a quick fix, either. A good thing, because he wasn’t ever going to be happy with just being her quick fix, but bad because neither had vented that kind of steam in far too long.

Jaax’a pulled away just enough to suck in air, their noses still touching, bodies still tucked together. After a moment Corso thought it wise to get a little space between them. Her face was flushed, eyes wide, and Corso thought perhaps he had overdone it.

“Jaax?”

“I like it when you call me that,” she murmured.

“And when we kiss?”

She didn’t reply, just nodded faintly. Suddenly she tilted her chin up and kissed him again, firmly, but quickly. “I... I think I need a minute.”

Corso shrank back a bit, stung. “No, Corso,” she replied, “it’s not bad. Not at all. I just... want to do this right. And if I don’t I’ll probably jump you right where you’re standing.”

His eyebrows raised. “Ah. Well, not that I wouldn’t be amenable to that, but--”

“We’ll start a list of things we’re, shall we say, _amenable_ to. For doing later.”

Suddenly Corso also needed a minute. He swallowed hard. “Sounds good, Jaax. I... didn’t get a shower in this morning, so I’ll just, ah..."

Jaax’a giggled. “You do that, Corso.” Her tone told him she knew _exactly_ what he was up to. He thought he’d blush clear up to his dreads, but honestly, he didn’t mind. She was the source of his problem, anyway, and she knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't tell, it's an arnica and lavender cream she's supposed to be using.
> 
> A bit shorter, I know, but the next chapter gets rolling again. I'm working very far ahead on this (24k words so far...) and there will be regular updates. :)


	3. Sparkles, Carrick Station and Nar Shaddaa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers here for a couple conversations with Corso (having to do with gifts and a certain family member) and the Nar Shaddaa story quest.

Carrick Station was always an interesting place--never stopping, all durasteel and harsh lighting, littered with both the best and the worst the Republic had to offer.

“I’ve got far too many commendations burning a hole in my pocket, Riggs,” Jaax’a said as they headed past the cantina. “Let’s take care of that, shall we?”

“Need something in particular, Captain?”

She threw him a look. “If you must know, Corso, the Taris gunk has ruined my boots.”

“I think it’s the rakghoul slime that does it.”

“Probably.” The vendor was more than happy to show his selection of boots to someone with such an array of commendations to trade. In short order she’d lightened her bag and they headed towards the more everyday purchases.

“Still can’t believe that damned Skavak busted up my ship,” she groused, handing over credits and arranging to have her ship upgraded before they left the station.

“Least you got Risha and the easiest way to Drayen’s fortune,” Corso offered, his voice low upon mention of the infamous treasure.

“Easy? Ha.”

“I didn’t say it was _easy,_ Jaax. I’m along for the ride too.”

“Haven’t you figured out I don’t _do_ easy, Corso?”

“For which I am forever grateful, Captain,” he replied, smiling, his eyes twinkling. She glared, but it was without heat, and the corners of her lips twitched.

They walked among the vendors, looking and occasionally buying. Corso was unused to how Jaax’a spent her credits: carefully, never casually, but when she purchased, she didn’t flinch at prices. He patted the pocket where he kept his credit chips; it was comfortably plump--far more so now, thanks to Jaax’a’s taking him off Ord Mantell and picking up with the Republic--but he couldn’t shake the habit of triple-questioning every purchase.

“Hey, Riggs!”

He looked up and saw her waving at him; he said his goodbyes to the vendor whose wares he was browsing and headed her direction. A smattering of items were spread across the table. His eyes lit quickly on a padded weapons case.

“See anythin’ ya like?” the vendor asked. Corso smiled thinly at him. He could really use a case--he had his antique blasters wrapped in old shirts--but he didn’t want to waste credits, and such things weren’t cheap.

“Have you found anything to keep your blaster collection in, yet?” Jaax’a asked him.

“I’m... making do, thanks.” He wasn’t--one blaster had already been damaged.

Jaax’a shook her head and pulled out her credit chips. “Case?” she asked the vendor, and in short order the transaction was sorted. She jerked her thumb towards the weapons case. “Go on,” she told Corso. “All yours.”

“Captain, I...” He picked it up; it was well made, hinges solid, decorative hasp hiding the clever locking mechanism. “Thank you.”

She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You deserve it. C’mon. Let’s get a bite to eat and see if these people can upgrade a ship as well as we can.”

The cantina wasn’t overly busy, but it hummed with the constant buzz that came from being the center of Carrick Station. They ordered and when Jaax’a shifted on her stool to pull out her credit chips, Corso was quicker. Jaax’a quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Can’t I buy a lovely lady some lunch?”

“Not sure how lovely or lady I am, Corso.”

He took his change from the droid and pocketed it. “Well, Jaax, you’re the lady I’m buying lunch for, and I happen to think you’re lovely.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Corso, what am I ever going to do with you?”

“Feed me, for starters,” he replied as the droid appeared with their meals. He popped a fried tuber into his mouth and grinned. Jaax’a smiled and bent to her nerf burger. 

 

Back aboard the _Sunsoarer_ , where several large crates had been delivered and droids were assembling parts to install in the weapons bays and preparing new plating to cover damage in her hull, Corso unwrapped each of his antique blasters and laid them lovingly in their new case.

As he picked up the last of them, he ran his fingers down its barrel. This blaster was a special one, one of the first he’d refurbished, picked up for a song after sitting for years in dirt and grime; it gleamed in the light of his workbench. He slid his fingers around its grip and had an idea.

Flicking on the safety and sliding it into his belt, he headed out of his cabin to find Jaax’a. She was, as usual, sitting in the cockpit, inspecting every facet of her instrumentation panels, wiping each screen and switch with a soft cloth.

“Jaax?”

“Yeah?” She looked up.

“Got a minute?”

Jaax’a set her cloth down by the galaxy map and turned to face him. “Of course. What’s up?”

“I... I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate the case. No one’s ever gotten me a real gift like that before.”

“I had a hunch you could use one, and when I saw you light up when you saw it, well, done deal.”

“I just wanted to ask... it’s not because of, well, whatever our relationship is doing?”

“Me buying you something? If it was jewelry, I could see your point, but a weapons case? C’mon, Corso. Plus, I don’t know if jewelry is really your thing.”

He shook his head. “I guess... I guess I just don’t quite know what to do with all this. I’d love to get you something, but what does a guy get a woman like you?”

“Be creative.”

“Well, I... I have something for you. But you gotta close your eyes.”

She raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told. He pulled the blaster out and stepped towards her.

“This is one of the first ones I got,” he said. “Real nice blaster. They don’t make ‘em quite like they used to. The grip’s a little--always been a bit snug for me. I think... I think you’d get along quite well. I call her Sparkles.”

Jaax’a opened her eyes and offered her hands towards him, palm-up. Corso set the blaster in her waiting fingers and smiled as her hand fit perfectly in the grip.

“She’s got some augmentations open--thought you could take them from your blaster now and put them in Sparkles. I know your repeater tends to overheat a little quicker than you’d like.”

“I was going to mod Flashy on our way to Nar Shaddaa,” she said, turning Sparkles over in her hands, “but this one... suits me.”

“Flashy? You still have Flashy?”

“‘Course I do, Corso,” she replied, smiling. “I got a soft spot for good blasters--especially ones handsome men worried about my reputation give me.”

“Well, I guess I am that.” He was inordinately pleased that she’d kept his trusty little blaster.

“Given that you might be out to ruin my shining reputation as a smuggler without attachments...”

“No might be about it, Cap. It’s the other reputation I’m worried about.”

“Which one is that?”

“The alive-and-shooting one.”

“Ah.” She smiled. “I like that one, myself.”

"Me too.”

 

Sparkles, fit to bursting with the best tech Jaax’a could find, was a comforting weight at her side as she navigated the chaotic Deucalon Spaceport of Nar Shaddaa.

She was fuming. Not only had Drooga drained half the Wookiee slave’s blood, he’d _poisoned_ him. She’d stepped in to help and ended up with Drooga’s disdain and a shanjaru to hunt down in the filthy, fetid underbelly of the _worst_ planet in...

She realized midsentence she was speaking aloud and shot a glare at Corso, daring him to say something. He shook his head minutely and continued following along, wisely noticing nothing.

“Risha!” she shouted as she stomped aboard. “Risha!”

“What, the mighty Jaax’a having troubles with the Hutts?” Risha’s buttery voice flowed ahead of her as she emerged from the hold, leaning against the doorway.

“Not now...” Corso started. Jaax’a narrowed her eyes at him, then spun to turn her ire on Risha.

“Are you aware that the matching shanjaru which is _vital_ to this delivery has been stolen? And--oh--Drooga plans to _eat_ them? Right after he finishes torturing his Wookiee?”

Risha blinked, then chose her words wisely. “I was... not privy to that information, no. It doesn’t surprise me, though. This _is_ Nar Shaddaa.”

“Figure out what I need to do so we can get off this rock. _With_ the Wookiee. He belongs to some mercenary; the Hutt will keep him if the merc doesn’t come back.”

Both Corso and Risha’s eyebrows raised, but their temperamental Captain had stomped off to her cabin, cursing at the sliding door. The thuds of her boots being tossed against the wall followed as the door slid shut and locked audibly.

“Mistress Lannen? Is there anything I may assist you with? Perhaps a--”

“Go fry your circuits, C2!”

“Oh! Goodness!” C2 tottered down the hall, his tinny voice floating in chattered disbelief behind him.

“Better go do as she says,” Risha commented. “I’ll be in the hold if you need me.”

And with that, Corso was left alone in the hall, ten feet from the captain’s closed door, wondering what had blown his captain’s cool. 

 

Jaax’a sat on the bed with her head in her hands. _I hate Nar Shaddaa. I_ hate _Nar Shaddaa. Kriffing Hutts and their pleasure barges and endless ridiculous luxuries and turf wars._

She wasn’t sure how long it’d been since she’d stormed off, but a hesitant tap at her door shook her out of her brooding. “Ah... Jaax?”

Knowing only Corso called her that, she sighed. “Yeah?”

“I... well, need to talk to you about something. My cousin Rona. I know it’s a really bad time, but...”

She stood and went to the door, palming it open. “No time like the present, Corso, as long as it _doesn’t_ involve Nar Shaddaa.”

“Coruscant.”

“Well, there’s a blessing in disguise. Gang wars are gang wars whether they’re on a Hutt backwater or a Republic core.” Jaax’a resumed her seat on the bed and waved Corso over to a chair.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other, right?”

“So. Your cousin.”

“Yeah. Got word from an old friend that she’s there. Some doctor who runs around in the worst parts of Coruscant has worked with her or something. He’s usually in the Dealer’s Den--where we met Darmas. Said he’d help us.”

“That place wasn’t too bad. Usual rough crowd but not so far out of Republic territory that it’s overrun. We’ll go, Corso. Don’t worry.”

Corso felt a little portion of his stomach settle. “I know it’s out of our way.”

“May not be. Hard to say where we’re going after this kriffing planet.” Her full lips flattened into a thin line.

“Not a fan?”

“I...” She sighed. “It’s not an easy story.”

“I’m all ears, Cap. Whenever you’re ready.”

Jaax’a closed her eyes and let her head tip forward. “I was not exactly the brightest spacer my first time here. Got in a little deep with one of the Hutts--easy to do. I was younger, prettier then. Didn’t have these scars. Or this.” She tapped the cybernetic implant that curved under her chin, peeking up over each side. “I landed myself in the middle of a bargain that was rapidly going wrong between some pirate and the Hutt. Pirate ended up stealing something; I forget what. Lorgga--the Hutt--sent me to get it back, preferably killing the pirate in the process. No dice. Pirate gave me these instead and sent me packing.” She traced the three scars that ran parallel down the left side of her face.

“Of course, Lorgga’s backup plan was to keep me as a slave girl, but when he saw... well, that was the end of that. I ended up having to do some ugly things just to keep the eye. Not any of my prouder moments.

“In the end, to get off this blasted rock, I signed on to help with a delivery that I hoped would get me to someplace where I could lick my wounds. Didn’t exactly go that way.” She examined her hands, keeping her eyes downcast. “Got me the _Sunsoarer,_ but that was about all the good that came out of it.”

“Seems like a lot of good to me, Jaax.”

“It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?” Her lips twitched in a facsimile of a smile. “Except she’s a reminder of what happened, every day. And eventually I landed on Ord, had her stolen, met you.”

Corso’s heart squeezed at the reminder of the day he’d met her, eyes storming.

“There’s a reason I’m pitching in with the Republic every chance I get, Corso.” Jaax’a rose, slowly, almost as if in pain, and Corso suddenly realized he was seeing a much different side of his captain--the side that was battered and small, no ego, no bravado. “They’re the only ones who’ve ever helped and not expected something a woman should never have to give.”

“Jaax...” Corso wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms, to hold her to him, to shield her. The instinct was so strong it hurt. 

“Don’t feel sorry for me. It was long enough ago that it doesn’t hurt so much, not anymore.” Underlaid beneath her words was a warning: _Don’t you dare pity me._ She lifted her chin and met his gaze steadily. “C’mon, Riggs. Let’s go piss off a Hutt.”


	4. Nar Shaddaa and Coruscant:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS for the end of Nar Shaddaa and Corso's companion quest to Coruscant.
> 
> Oh, Corso, you're growing up! *applause*

“Well, I’d say that went well.” Jaax’a dusted off her hands, staring pointedly at the felled bounty hunter before them. Bowdaar shouted something; Corso shook his head. _I am_ not _proficient in Shyriiwook._ “That enough entertainment for ya, Drooga?”

“ _My Rancor!_ ”

“Yeah, sure, it’s _all_ about the slimy, toothy beasts. C’mon, Bowdaar. Let’s get you outta here.” The Wookiee was noticeably shaky on his feet, but, typical of Wookiees, stood steadfast and, well, freakishly tall. Once they had left Drooga’s pleasure barge and were well inside the winding streets of Nar Shaddaa, Jaax’a activated her holomap.

“Bowdaar, no offense meant, but if you’re with my crew, I get you to med-droids more often than necessary. I get the feeling Drooga didn’t much care about your treatment, so... med-droid, first stop.”

Bowdaar rumbled in reply.

“You a part of my crew or not?” She began walking. “There’s one on the way. You too, Corso. I saw that blaster burn.”

Bowdaar and Corso traded sighs and followed meekly. At the station, the droid simply handed Corso a disinfecting wipe and a kolto patch before turning to fuss over Bowdaar. Corso began trying to work on his burn one-handed, but Jaax’a stilled his hand and took over. Corso watched her face as she worked, carefully swiping the disinfectant over the burn, taking care not to cause him pain. She unsealed the kolto patch and placed it on his arm, sealing the adhesive edges down with steady fingers, and he felt the cool tingle of kolto beginning to numb the stinging burn. Her hands lingered longer than necessary, and she looked up to see him gazing at her; her lips quirked in a tiny smile. He returned it, and her eyes glittered.

She turned to Bowdaar, who was growing increasingly agitated, threatening the droid. “Sit down and shut up, Bowdaar. I take care of my crew.” He growled at the droid, who skittered back; Jaax’a added, more seriously, “Honor me by allowing the droid to treat you.”

That did the trick; the Wookiee sighed and nodded. “ _For your honor, then._ ” The droid administered a series of hyposprays; Bowdaar rumbled deep in his chest but allowed the droid to do his work.

“Captain?” Corso looked uncomfortable--how typical; they were in a med-station.

“Riggs?”

“Are you going to take the shanjaru samples back to Coruscant?”

“Yup. And we’re gonna go find your cousin while we’re there.” Corso relaxed. “Don’t worry, flyboy. I didn’t forget.”

The hike back to the taxi took some time; they couldn’t blend in, not with a Wookiee, and had to fight their way through more than one mob of gangsters. Bowdaar waded into the throngs, his vibrosword and massive paws sending them flying, leaving Jaax’a and Corso to pick off those around the edges. Occasionally Corso would fly into the fray,  swinging his rifle like a club, the Wookiee dwarfing the not-small man as they fought back to back. Jaax’a smiled, seeing them immediately sinking into a rhythm that told of their fighters’ natures, despite Bowdaar’s justified mistrust of anything animate.

Swooping and diving on its way back to Deucalon Spaceport, the taxi ride was rough, to say the least. Corso could hear Jaax’a grumbling about the transport the whole way back to the ship.

“Home sweet home, boys,” she said as she keyed in her passcode. The ship’s hatch popped open, the stairs hissing as they slid down from the hull, and they began to climb. “Welcome to the _Sunsoarer_ , Bowdaar.”

_“It is a good ship,”_ he replied.

“I like to think so. C2-N2‘s our ship’s droid--he’s here somewhere. Anyway, there’s an oversize bunk in with the crew, it’s all yours.” Bowdaar rumbled his appreciation. “Corso, will you show him around?”

“Sure thing, Cap.” Corso strode off towards the crew quarters, gesturing to the rooms off the hallway, Bowdaar in his wake. Jaax’a headed for the galley. A quick check confirmed that they had nowhere near enough supplies for a Wookiee.

“Hey, C2!”

“Yes, mistress?” The droid tottered in; she marveled yet again how he managed not to fall on a regular basis.

“Bowdaar will be with us for a while. We’ll need to change our usual resupply routine. Let’s do it before we leave tomorrow.”

“Of course, mistress. What is our next destination?”

“Coruscant. We can get a lot of supplies there--but we’ll need rations before we go anywhere.”

“Very wise, mistress, as a Wookiee eats as much as two-point-three standard humans! Oh, the weight distribution will have to change... I do hope Mistress Risha will allow some cargo to be moved...” C2 tottered off, chattering to himself.

Jaax’a made herself a cup of tea and headed for her cabin. Setting the tea on her desk to cool, she shucked off her clothes and headed for the ‘fresher. A quick shower rinsed the ozone and kolto from her skin. She returned for her tea, towel wrapped around her body, and had just picked it up when she heard a knock. “Cap?”

“Hang on,” she replied, setting down the tea. It sloshed over the side and across her fingers. “Yow!”

“You okay?”

“Fine.” She grabbed a robe out of her closet and shed the towel, slipping into the robe and tying the sash. “Come in.”

The door slid open to admit Corso, who blinked as he was treated to a rear view of his captain in a dramassian silk robe as she bent to pick the towel off the floor. “Ah...”

“What’s up?” She looked at him over her shoulder as she headed for the ‘fresher to hang the towel up. “What, haven’t seen a lady in a bathrobe before?”

“To be honest? I didn’t think you owned one. Much less... silk.”

“Just because I outshoot men for a living doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy some of the finer points of being female.” She picked up her tea, hovering her hand over the surface before dipping a finger in to test the temperature. Satisfied, she sipped.

“Just wanted to let you know Bowdaar’s settled in. Seems happy. And... I wanted to thank you for what you did. A lot of people wouldn’t have risked their necks over a slave.”

Jaax’a sipped her tea again and just smiled as a reply before moving on. “Did Bowdaar have anything else besides his kit?”

“Nope.”

Jaax’a nodded and pulled open a drawer in her desk; feeling along the back, she pressed a panel. The drawer clicked and a smaller door opened. Jaax’a reached in and pulled out a handful of hundred-credit chips. She glanced over her hand, counting quickly, then shut the compartment and the drawer and turned to Corso. “Give these to him--if he argues, just tell him it’s for helping us with that bounty hunter or something.”

Corso looked at his palm. “I don’t know that he’ll know what to do with fifteen hundred creds, Jaax. Hell, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know if I’ve held this many, to be honest.”

“If you need money, Corso, let me know.”

“No! No, I’ve pretty much been rolling in creds since tagging along with you, Jaax’a. Got everything I need.”

“And Bowdaar’s been through slavery and lost everything but his weapons--hence, credits for the things he’ll need. Let him know we’re going to Coruscant? He’ll have a better time buying there.”

“Will do.” Jaax’a smiled and picked up her tea again, turning to her desk and straightening a few flimsiplasts. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Corso, still standing just inside. “Something else on your mind?”

“You look real nice in that robe,” he murmured, allowing himself to openly appreciate her shape under the clinging fabric and feeling his heart thrum. “Beautiful, really.” He smiled. “Prettiest starship captain I ever saw.”

“You keep feeding my ego, I’ll start acting like a princess, too.”

“I’d still be right behind you, Captain.”

“Good to know, Corso.” She smiled; he sketched a lazy salute and left, palming the door panel on his way out; it slid shut. Jaax’a lifted her tea to her lips but did not drink, just letting the last of the vapor waft over her face, her nose buried in the mug, and feeling the pleasant tingle of Corso’s open admiration scurry up her spine and along her cheeks.

 

Coruscant hadn’t, of course, changed. A quick trip to the Senate tower saw the shanjaru samples safely in the hands of a Republic scientist, and outfitted for the worst, they were off to the Old Galactic Market.

The doctor Corso mentioned proceeded to set all of Jaax’a’s many alarm bells off. Doctor _Hope_? Life-saving medicines that had to be smuggled? As _implants_? Yeah, right. Jaax’a followed Corso’s lead, though, cringing as he allowed his skin to be slit open and the mysterious packet to be inserted.

He moved awkwardly on their way into Black Sun territory and was not up to his usual standard: the kickback on his carbine obviously hurt and he kept his arm close to his belly. After a while, Jaax’a stopped and waved him into a shadowed corner.

“Look, Corso. This is bad. You know that.”

“I know, but if it gets me to Rona...”

“I know our usual arrangement is you run in shooting, but right now that’s not going to work. I know stealthing around bad guys grates on your nerves, but that’s what we’re gonna have to do. I’m not letting you get further into trouble than you are now.”

Testament to how he was feeling, Corso just nodded. Jaax’a flicked on the stealth generator at her waist and they moved off, stealing silently through the streets.

Their contact in the Silent Sun Cantina, Big Jan, was less skilled than her counterpart with the medical vibro. Corso applied the offered kolto patch to the wound after she peeled apart his skin and plucked out the package, looking green; he went ashen as the delivered “medicine” proved to be spice, smiling grimly when Jaax’a destroyed it. They left, Jaax’a as furious as he’d ever seen her, stalking like a manka cat. Just outside she pulled out a medpack and Corso took the offered hypos gratefully.

Another sneaking trek brought them back to the taxi station. Eventually they made it back to the Dealer’s Den--and Rona. The ensuing conversation was unpleasant, to say the least, and Corso wanted nothing more than to return to the _Sunsoarer_ and his bunk as the toll of his injury and Rona’s betrayal began to hang heavily on his broad shoulders.

“Let’s get you back, Corso. I don’t want to risk the med-droid and associated authorities, but you’re letting me take care of you on the ship, alright?”

“Yeah.” He looked crestfallen, his hopes for his cousin dashed and with an injury as an insult, to boot. The nearby taxi took them back to the spaceport, where she ignored the posted signs and rode her speeder through. Corso was grateful. _Damn spaceport is way bigger than it needs to be. Typical Coruscant._

Aboard the _Sunsoarer,_ Jaax’a followed a sluggish Corso to the crew quarters, helping him slide his armor off without bumping his side. He sat and she removed the flimsy kolto patch covering the clumsy incision and examined the wound herself, fingers probing carefully; he grit his teeth while she worked, feeling blood trickle down his side. Satisfied, she swabbed his skin with disinfectant, sealed the open wound, and injected the area directly with kolto. Corso groaned as the substance swam through his body. “Really, Jaax? Kolto?”

“I know you hate it, but I’m not taking any risks with you; who knows how clean those knives were? Just sleep it off.” She grabbed his comm from his belt and tucked it under his pillow. “Holo if you need me.”

Her worried gaze lingered on his face until his mouth quirked in a tiny smile, trying to reassure her; she returned it, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“Thanks, Jaax,” he murmured. “Sorry to drag you through all that.”

“Don’t be,” she replied. “You follow me through all my nonsense every day.”

He snorted, one side of his full mouth turned up, eyes closing as the kolto tugged him towards sleep. He reached up and covered her hand on his shoulder with his own; she stood there for a long moment as his breathing evened out, then eased her hand out from under his and left, flicking the light off in her wake. She palmed the door panel and it slid shut noiselessly.

“Bowdaar?” she called quietly, relying on his hearing to hear her.

He rumbled and she headed for the galley; he was, predictably, eating, and she smiled. “Glad to see you in here.”

_“Slaves are not well fed. I am too thin.”_

“I know. I had C2 resupply extra for you. Look--our trip to find Corso’s cousin didn’t go well. He’s laid up. I put him back together but he needs to stay quiet for a while. I’ve gotta go meet somebody. You’re in charge, ‘kay?”

_“Not Risha?”_

“Risha’s too involved in whatever it is she’s doing down there to pay much attention, but between the two of you, you can handle whatever comes up.” Bowdaar nodded, mouth full again, and Jaax’a chuckled. “Eat up.” She patted him on the shoulder--possible only because he was seated--and left, heading out alone into the spaceport, heart lifting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, what have we here?


	5. Where to Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers. Just fluff... and men being possessive. Two guesses about how much Jaax'a likes _that_.

Jaax’a sat alone in the busy cantina, twirling a bottle by the neck and listening to it clatter lightly against the table. Her comm was quiet; she figured she had a few hours to herself, for once.

Which was why, of course, she was meeting someone in a cantina. A contact, in a way. She groaned and took a sip from the bottle. It was hard to get decent ale now, even on Coruscant, and she wanted something heavier after the day they’d had. She glanced up, seeing movement, and a mild clicking of plastoid alerted her to his presence as he slid into the booth.

“You know, I’m not supposed to be here.”

“What, in a bar?” Jaax’a glanced up into the trooper’s stern face and gestured with her bottle to his own. “Drinking that?”

“Nah, it’s the ‘consorting with criminals’ bit that Jorgan would kick me over about.”

“Jorgan still have a stick where it don’t shine?”

“A-yup. Hasn’t changed a bit.” He grinned and raised his bottle towards her; Jaax’a clinked hers against it obligingly and they both took a drink. “Got this new medic, though--Dorne. She’s something else. Imp deserter! On the straight and narrow as far as the eye can see. I’ve made it my life’s work to get her to blush.”

“Aside from leading whatever squad it is you do.”

“Well, yes.”

“I have to say, Io, it’s good to see you.”

“How many years, sis?”

“Too many. You’ve been off being self-important and I’ve been off... well, it’s a long story.”

“Consorting with criminals?”

“If you call having one steal my ship, stranding me on Ord Mantell, and me helping out the Republic and any needy local ever since, sure.”

“Oh-ho! You’ve been busy. But tell me, is this Skavak you wanted intel on a... protege? Romantic conquest?”

“He’s who stole my kriffing ship. Been chasing me with bounty hunters and mercs ever since. I’d rather like to make him go away.”

“Well, there’s your problem. _Everyone_ wants to make him go away, but nobody can manage to do it. Real piece of work.”

“Well, I will, and that’ll just be the end of it, then. He seems pretty set on following me around the galaxy.” She drained her bottle.

“Be doing lots of us a favor, sis.” He tipped the contents of his own bottle down his throat and slid out of the booth to order more, smiling merrily. Jaax’a’s holo chirped; she flicked it on. Corso appeared in blue relief above the device.

_“Hey, Cap! Where’d you get to?”_

“Off visiting.”

 _“Without me? Jaax’a, I’m hurt.”_ He smiled and she relaxed, glad he was on the mend. _“Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me or something?”_

“The good Captain Lannen, taking care of someone? Usually only with a blaster,” Io added as he slid back into the booth, handing Jaax’a another ale and slinging an arm around his sister’s shoulders. Corso stiffened immediately.

“ _Jaax, you okay?”_

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, Corso. Juuust fine.”

“Jaax?” Io raised an eyebrow and looked at his sister. “Since when are you letting anyone else call you that?” Io’s tone was clearly querying whether Corso needed to be on the planet anymore.

Jaax’a rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Men. Seriously. Share. Io, Corso. Corso, Io.” She gestured between Io and the holographic Corso.

 _“Io...”_ Corso’s expression was darkening as he prodded for a longer title.

“Lannen.” Jaax’a pursed her lips and lifted an eyebrow, gaze flitting between Corso’s hologram and Io’s plastoid-clad self spread across the booth. “Is it Lieutenant or Captain now?”

“Captain, Havoc Squad, Republic Armed Forces.” Io raised the bottle in the comm’s general direction.

The silence stretched awkwardly as Corso’s blue holographic representation figured out what to say. _“Ah... yeah. Sorry, Io. I... well, Jaax’a sometimes gets... more attention than she likes.”_

“Than _you_ like, Riggs. They bugger off soon as I tell ‘em to.” Jaax’a took a drink, made a face, and glared at Io; he’d brought her the cheap stuff.

“Yeah, with your blaster,” Io chuckled. “Shut up and drink, Jaax, you look like you’ve been run over by a bantha.”

“Then bring me something that won’t give me a hangover, eh?”

He shook his head and plucked her ale out of her hand, slugging half of it in one go. “Fine, fine. Brandy it is.” He slid out of the booth again.

Jaax’a turned her attention to Corso’s blue figure. “Sorry, Corso. Io’s my half brother--older by several years. We’re in the habit of letting each other know when we stop in the more major worlds, just in case. Haven’t seen him in ages, not since he got teamed up with his special ops squad.”

_“Nice that you could visit. I’ll leave you to it.”_

“I won’t be gone too long. Io’s got a curfew, anyway.”

“Since when?” Io slid into the booth again, cradling a glass.

“Since you got your command and Jorgan to keep your boots on,” she replied sweetly, taking her brandy from him.

Io shook his head and finished the last of one of the bottles on the table. “Coming to drink with us, Corso?”

_“Nah. Just make sure my Captain gets back, yeah?”_

“‘Course. Can’t let my sis wander the streets drunk, huh?”

“Since when have I done that?”

Corso nodded to them both and closed the call. The siblings drank their respective beverages in silence for a long moment. “So, Corso--Riggs, was it?”

Jaax’a nodded. “Your point?” She swirled the brandy in her glass.

Io’s armor clicked as he stretched his arms above his head. “Didn’t know you liked dreadlocks.”

“Didn’t know you liked Imp deserters who thrive on regulations.”

“Even wears her hair in a bun.” He grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

They sat companionably for a while, then Io spoke again. “C’mon, sis. Spill.”

“About what?” She was pleasantly fuzzy, the brandy buoyant in her veins.

“This Corso. What backwater planet’d you pick him up on?”

“Ord Mantell. He saved my ass when my ship got stolen, helped me with a lot of Separatists while I figured out getting off-planet. Lost his job in the process, tagged along with me instead and helped me get her back. Been along ever since.”

“Can’t be that simple, sis, not if you’re this moony about him.” He twirled an empty bottle, listening to it clink. “What, is he good in bed?”

She shrugged and sipped her brandy.

“What?” Io straightened, looking at her with one eyebrow quirked; they were different enough in build that the blood relationship wasn’t immediately obvious, but the expressions were identical. “You _don’t_ _know_ and you’re this moony?”

“Io...” She sighed. “You know how I told you I fought a duel for the _Sunsoarer_?"

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t entirely truthful. Not a story for here and now, but... yeah, I do things differently with men, these days. Got hurt a little too badly.”

Io’s face darkened. “Jaax. What happened? Tell me. Tell me so I can go get those kriffing--”

“They’re dead,” she said, quietly. “It’s over. As over as it can be.”

Io softened, if only slightly. “Does he know?”

“Corso?” Io nodded and she continued. “Some of it.”

“You ever gonna fill me in?”

“It’s need-to-know, Io. Details are... unnecessary.”

“Well, think about it.”

She fiddled with her empty glass before sighing and looking at her chrono. “I need to get going.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“Don’t need to. I’m not drunk.”

“Aren’t we both going to the spaceport? Let a guy walk his sister to her ship, huh?”

Jaax’a nodded and they slid out of the booth. She was silent on the taxi, musing; Io was clearly unsettled by his sister’s revelation but let her be.

The oversized spaceport was oddly quiet this time of night. Security just nodded to them instead of studying Jaax’a intently as she was used to. She supposed it was Io’s clearly Republic-issue kit that kept questions away; he was an imposing figure without it, but with his heavy build covered in thick plastoid with a Republic insignia stamped on his shoulder, lowly spaceport security guards stiffened their spines and nodded to him while staring straight ahead.

“Sis, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not being there.”

“Io, it’s not like you can be with me all the time. I can take care of myself.” She patted her hip, where Sparkles hung.

“And that is a mighty fine blaster you’re carrying--not going to ask where you got it. But it’s an older brother’s job to protect his sister, and let me tell you, hearing what you told me does _not_ make me feel like I’m doing right by you.”

“Corso collects and restores antiques, if you must know. He gave her to me.” She slid the blaster out of its holster and held it for a moment, the grip molding to her hand. “And there was nothing you could have done. We both know that. You do more good with the Republic keeping the scum of the galaxy from taking over.”

“Well, tell Corso thank you from me. And you’re not so bad yourself with the scum of the galaxy.” They’d arrived at the _Sunsoarer;_ Jaax’a holstered the pistol and smiled up at her brother.

“You’re welcome,” a third voice added from the hatch as it slid open. Corso came out, moving slowly, still favoring his injured side. “And I reckon I make it easier for her with all my tagging along an’ whatnot.”

Jaax’a looked up at Corso as he eased down the stairs, noting he was barefoot. “You do.” Corso smiled.

“Nice to actually meet you, Io,” Corso said, extending a hand. “Bit laid up at the moment, I’m afraid.” The men shook hands, sizing each other up; Io nodded to him.

“A bit.” Jaax’a snorted.

“Anything of note?” Io raised his eyebrow and Corso was taken aback at the expression he was used to seeing on Jaax’a’s face. _So that’s where the sibling thing shows up._

“Oh... just a little run-in with spicers down in Black Sun territory. Stuff’s destroyed, never you worry.”

“Can’t believe they’re still in business on Coruscant, of all places. You got him taken care of, yeah? I can send Dorne over if you need.”

“We’re good, Io. You go on and play with your lady friend.” Jaax’a winked.

Bowdaar roared inside and Corso shook his head. “We were playin’ holochess... he doesn’t like waitin’ much.”

“A _Wookiee_ , Jaax?” Io folded his arms over his chest.

“Picked him up on Nar Shad--a Hutt was trying to feed him to his pet rancor.” She shrugged. “You know me. Garnering Wookiee life-debts, part of the job description.”

“All in a day’s work, huh?” Io shook his head and reached out. “Gimme a hug, sis. I gotta get back before Jorgan has my head for breakfast.”

“Let me know when you get your orders?”

“Always.” Jaax’a stepped away and headed up the ramp; Corso turned to follow, but Io stopped him. “Hey, Riggs.”

“Yeah?” They spoke quietly.

“Take care of her, alright? She’s... special.”

“I know,” Corso replied. He glanced up at the hatch where Jaax’a had disappeared.  “Believe me--I know.”

Io nodded, looking thoughtful. “You break her heart, I’ll break you in half. Consider yourself warned.”

“You use that warnin’ often?”

“First time I’ve had to, Riggs. She’s never liked anyone enough for me to notice before.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The men shook hands again and Corso turned to go up the stairs. Io wondered what kind of hit had him moving slowly after Jaax’a had been at it; she had a talent for patching people up good as new. _Would have made a great medic, if she wanted to._ _Maybe I should go check out these spicers for myself._

Corso was already in the galley, stirring sugar into his kaff, when Jaax’a emerged from her cabin the next day, rubbing her temples.

“Mornin’,” he said, sipping from his mug.

She smiled grimly. “Any more of that?”

He pulled another mug from the cabinet and poured. “Figured you’d need it.” He extended his hand towards her.

“Sugar?” she asked, plaintively.

“Jaax’a, the kaff purist, addin’ sugar?” he teased.

She grunted noncommittally, easing into the booth at the table. “Helps when you’re hungover.”

Corso chuckled as he added sugar and stirred, bringing the sweetened mug to Jaax’a. She took it gratefully and sipped, sighing as the drink slid down her throat and began to clear the fog from her brain. She sat with her eyes closed, sipping periodically. It was early still; Bowdaar and Risha hadn’t made an appearance yet.

He was beginning to appreciate these small moments as Jaax’a’s crew became more diverse. He was still her number one out in the field, but sometimes Risha or Bowdaar would accompany her instead, leaving him idle time on the ship. He appreciated the breaks, but he missed the times where they’d be hunkering down in a ditch or behind debris, waiting for their chance to cross a battlefield, communicating only with glances and gestures. It was how their relationship had built and flourished.

After a long moment Corso slid into the booth beside Jaax’a; she moved slightly to give him room, but didn’t move far. Their legs touched and she felt the heat of his body against hers, marveling--as usual--how he seemed to always be so damned warm.

She realized that they’d only sort of had the conversation Corso had asked for on Taris. Their trip to Nar Shaddaa had been adrenaline-fueled, their ears constantly ringing from blaster fire, whether from Mandalorians, Justicars or run-of-the-mill gangsters. Then Bowdaar had come along, Corso had gotten news about Rona, and... well, the time had just melted away.

They sat in companionable silence for a long while, sipping kaff and enjoying each other’s presence. “Not too often we get to just... sit and enjoy,” she said softly, glancing at him over the rim of her mug.

“I’d give up a lot to be able to do this more often.”

“I dunno. Might get bored.”

“Life’s a lot more excitin’ round you, that’s for sure.”

She smiled. “How’s your side?”

“Better.”

“Told you the kolto was worth it.”

“Bah.” He grimaced and sipped more kaff. She smiled and shook her head. He sighed. “I still can’t believe Rona’s with Black Sun. It’s like I can just... add her to my list of dead family already. And she’s all I have.”

“There’s the family you’re born with and the family you make, Corso,” Jaax’a murmured, staring into her kaff, then meeting his eyes. “I got lucky. Io and I have been thick as thieves for years. There’s a lot of my family, though, that I gave up on a long time ago. You’ll find your family, Corso. One way or another.”

His gaze was unflinchingly on her face as he replied, “I reckon I know just where to start.”


	6. Tatooine: Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read patiently and ye shall be rewarded. We are wading into the midst of both the romance and angst tags...
> 
> A few little spoilers for some side-quests at the beginning of Tatooine.
> 
> Note that the rating bumped a bit.

Bowdaar watched Corso and Jaax’a work in the cockpit, running through preflight checks and reading instrument panels. They double-checked each other’s work without getting in the way, working smoothly until the ship was readied for takeoff.

“Coruscant Spaceport Security, this is the _Sunsoarer_ , requesting clearance for departure.”

_“Sunsoarer, you are cleared for departure. Safe skies.”_

The ship thrummed as her thrusters fired, lifting her off her landing gear; the feet retracted as she spun and floated out of the hangar. Jaax’a guided her to orbit around the planet. “Corso?”

“Coordinates set for Tatooine, Captain. Anchorhead Spaceport.”

“Let ‘er rip.”

Bowdaar nodded, pleased by how his captain operated. She was honorable, helping the Republic and citizens who needed assistance, taking the same risks she asked of her crew, working just as hard if not more. He thought of the credit chips he had left after buying necessary supplies, tucked in his crew locker. Yes, she was a fair and honorable captain, and he was glad to work for her. He would not be owned again if he stayed with Jaax’a Lannen.

He turned and strode off to the galley, intent on filling his stomach for the second time that day despite the chrono only reading ten o’clock.

The stars stretched and disappeared as they roared through hyperspace, and Jaax’a and Corso found themselves sitting in the cockpit alone together. He’d been waiting for the right time to approach her again since the first time they’d kissed, but he’d been hesitant; he felt the whatever-it-was between them growing and flowering, if slowly, and hadn’t wanted to damage it.

He had, however, been dreaming endlessly of their kiss, waking in the middle of the night aching and wanting with only Bowdaar’s snores for company, and it was driving him to distraction. He turned his chair to face Jaax’a’s; she turned her head, then her chair to face him. “Something on your mind?”

“You,” he said, simply. “Often.”

She smiled, then reached out towards him; he took her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, scooting to the edge of his chair. “It’s nine hours to Tatooine,” he said casually, mentally kicking himself for such nonsense.

“I could use some help disassembling Sparkles,” she said, voice slipping into the flirtatious undertone he’d heard her use many times before. “I’m not used to her design...”

He suddenly understood why she found it so easy to get information in cantinas; he wouldn’t have cared if she’d asked him to armwrestle a krayt dragon, he’d have done it if she’d asked him in _that_ voice. He swallowed hard and did his best to keep his blood pressure down, his heart thumping noisily in his ears. She stood and moved towards her cabin, going the long way to avoid the galley and their nosy crewmates; Corso followed her eagerly. Even her walk radiated the sultry sort of movement that drew his eyes to her hips and sparked ideas in his head that were _not_ for polite company.

After sealing the door behind them, she pulled Sparkles out of her belt, which was hanging on the wall. She opened the cleaning kit sitting on her desk, spreading a drop cloth over the wood to protect it, and let Corso pull out the tools, glancing at him from under her lashes. Corso took in a deep breath and focused, showing her the finer points of this particular alloy and the crannies where the blaster needed extra cleaning. He was chattering to keep a grip on himself and realized, slowly, that she’d gotten _very_ close to him, and suddenly it was easier for him to reach around her to reach the blaster oil, easier still to stay and wrap his body around her to continue with his discussion of the antique blaster.

Standing behind her with his arms on either side put him in a precarious position; while he was focusing on his task, her scent was rapidly overpowering the tang of blaster oil, and it would be so _easy_ to just drop his head down and kiss her at the juncture of her neck and shoulder...

She suddenly set the blaster down, a little more firmly than need be, and he was glad the safety was on. She took the blaster oil from him, put it down, grabbed a clean cloth to wipe her hands, and leaned back the inch and a half it took to rest against his chest.

He did drop his head and kiss her neck, lips resting there for a long moment, and her head tipped back; peppering her skin with tiny kisses, he reached blindly for the cloth, wiping his own hands, and set it on the table before settling his hands on her hips, pulling her firmly against him. He breathed deeply, her soap and shampoo and a little bit of blaster oil and the sweetness that was all her own filling his lungs, and rumbled low in his chest. She exhaled slowly, quivering, her hands covering his.

“Lock... the door,” she whispered; he slipped out from behind her, hit the lock panel, and turned. She had moved to sit on the bed and he came to her.

“Jaax... stars.” He bent his head to kiss her; she kicked off her shoes while he did and when he released her, she scrambled back on the bed, eyes twinkling, beckoning. He did the same and faced her, suddenly uncertain. “I... what do you want?”

“Clothes on,” she said, looking up at him, and he nodded, feeling more settled. “But... besides that...” She reached up and touched his face; he closed his eyes. “Kiss me?”

He did so gladly, first brushing his lips against hers in a whisper, taking his time to slide his arms around her body and pull her to him. Slowly, never parting, they moved to lie facing each other and within short order they were tangled together, kissing slowly, arms wrapped around each other. Jaax’a’s hands roamed over his broad back, pulling herself to him, finding the seams of his muscles beneath his thin shirt. She made tiny noises in her throat as they kissed; he couldn’t repress a muffled groan. Corso shuddered as one hand tangled in his dreads and tugged.

She whined as he pulled away, their noses touching, breath mingling. “Can I touch you?” he whispered.

“Mmm,” she replied, her lips reaching for his again, unwilling to part. He obliged her, then slid one hand from her upper back, where it had pulled her close, to her hip, and walked it up her side slowly. She arched her back against him and he let his hand slide to cup her breast, marveling at being able to touch--if through layers of clothing--the soft globe he’d been dreaming about. He felt drunk at being able to feel her this way, not the quick, impersonal touches he got when helping her up a steep slope or when he’d seal kolto patches on blaster burns she couldn’t reach. This was feeling her how a lover would, tiny arcs of electricity sparking between them. Need was welling in his body, insistent in his groin. He ignored it, far preferring being able to touch her this way; he’d take himself in hand later.

Jaax’a was surprised at how her body reacted to his touch. To be honest, she wasn’t sure how she’d react when he asked to touch her; it had been so long since anyone had, especially with the kind of reverence Corso did, and deep down she knew that only he would have been able to bypass the memories that fueled her most intimate defenses. Her body reacted differently to him than to anyone else. He could creep up behind her and she wouldn’t jump or aim her blaster; she just _knew,_ subconsciously, that it was him, and he was _safe_. She wasn’t surprised that his touches, kisses, caresses all coaxed bolts of adrenaline into her bloodstream, and her head grew light and fizzy, her body slowly responding to his lover’s touch. She mewled as he traced patterns along her body, squirming as he found a ticklish spot.

He broke the kiss and grinned against her mouth, hands skimming her sides for more ticklish spots; she squeaked and wiggled and he laughed as he tickled her, kneeling on the bed. Laughing, she kicked out, sweeping one leg out from under him. He tipped forward, lost his balance, and landed on top of her, just managing to catch himself on his elbows before his full weight rested on her. Corso’s breath caught as he felt her stretched full-length beneath him, her chest heaving, breasts pressing against his chest, her legs open and her hips cradling him. Despite the layers of clothes, he felt the searing heat between them and knew he was rather hard against her; he fought against the need to rock his hips against hers and breathed.

“C-Corso?” Her voice was hesitant; he looked at her more closely. She had frozen, her eyes no longer desiring but fearful, not really seeing him. He had the eerie feeling of being looked right through, as if she was seeing someone else entirely above her. He swiftly moved off of her, laying on his side beside her, locking down his feverish, instinctual response to her body so intimately against his. _Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit!_ He knew immediately he’d triggered rememberings of her assault.

She rolled away from him and his heart sank; her shoulders quivered and she struggled, trying to breathe deeply, to control her hiccuping panic. After a moment he reached for her, resting his hand above her elbow. His hand was warm against her skin, which had gone clammy with fear. “Jaax’a? You okay?” She heard concern unhidden in his voice, the husky rumble that was so sexy and endearing gone soft and kind.

“I... I don’t know,” she whispered, slowly turning to face him, after a time. She struggled to meet his eyes, feeling small and alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly, feeling horrible, searching her face for forgiveness.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, reaching for him; he took her hand and she moved closer to him, curling towards his body, her forehead resting against his collarbone. She was trembling, the heated flood of desire in her veins turned to icy fear, and Corso rubbed her bare arms to warm them. “I’m sorry.” 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing blood. “No, Jaax,” he said, reaching up to stroke her hair, holding her gently. “Don’t be sorry.” She relaxed, slowly, and Corso was content to hold her, hoping she drew some measure of calm from lying safe against him. They lay together for a long time, Corso’s thoughts roaming, Jaax’a eventually dozing in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. She twitched and he felt her awaken, stiffening in alarm.

“Jus’ me,” he murmured, fingers tracing circles on her upper back, and she exhaled slowly and nestled her head further against his shoulder.

“I could get used to this,” she replied against his skin.

“Me too.”

He felt her smile.

 

Within minutes of their boots hitting the ground in Anchorhead, Jaax’a and Corso already had requests for assistance from Republic representatives and citizens alike. Corso’s new plastoid armor clicked as they hiked to the market; he was grateful for the upgrade, feeling suitably sheltered beneath the layers, but wondered how he’d do when the sand had burrowed in between.

A droid vendor chirruped as they walked by. He glanced over and grinned as his eyes lit on a cache of weapons. He was fond of his rifle, but it was well-used, and getting close to retirement. He drifted to the droid and ran his fingers over the weapons on display. His hands settled over a short carbine and they tingled; he gripped it and let it balance, feeling the weight. Checking the safety, he lifted it to his shoulder and felt it nestle instantly.

_Rifle = set to fire blanks. Potential buyer = test!_ the droid chattered. Corso verified that it would, indeed, fire blanks, flipped the safety, turned to face the open sand--just in case--and squeezed the trigger.

The carbine kicked like a bantha and, he knew, would spray fire like a krayt dragon. Jaax’a appeared, pulling on a new pair of gauntlets, and whistled as she saw the carbine in Corso’s hands. “Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about.”

The droid chattered the price and Corso sighed, patting the carbine. “I dunno, Jaax. That’s a lotta creds.”

“You need an upgrade, Corso, and we’ve got a big payout comin’.” She nodded towards the droid. “How much you need?”

“Jaax’a... I don’t--”

She pulled out her credit chip. “If you don’t tell me, I’m paying half.”

Corso choked. “No, no--”

“A third, then.” She showed the chip to the droid, who did the calculations and flashed a scanner over the credit chip. Jaax’a’s datapad chirruped in response as the transaction registered. Corso shook his head and dug out his own credit chip for the rest, sighing. He figured he didn’t need to spend much time in Tatooine’s cantinas anyway.

The carbine sat as a comforting weight across his back as they went to meet the Republic representative--Fauler or somebody--and he was very, very glad he had it as soon as they stepped off the elevator. As the carbine kicked and sprayed, hissing ozone, he decided he would call it Sergeant Boom-Boom. It thrummed in response and, well, boomed. The Czerka guard with twin pistols trained on Jaax’a crumpled.

_Totally_ worth going sober for a few weeks.

He kept his eyes trained on the entrance to the underground bunker as Jaax’a talked with Fauler. _He’s SIS. Well, that explains a lot._

The two left and headed to the nearby cantina to meet a Black Sun contact, hoping to intercept information about the whereabouts of the missing locals. He handed over the information and slunk off without a fuss.

“Either this is gonna go without a hitch or very, very badly,” Jaax’a muttered. Her comm chirped; she glanced at it and scrolled through the new message. Her face brightened.

“Somethin’ good?”

“Io’s on his way. Be here late this afternoon. Betting SIS wants him, too--he’d be handy to have with us.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Sorry I didn’t mention him earlier. We hadn’t been able to see each other in years... I’d figured he’d gone undercover or something, the comms I got were so sporadic. Never knew where they were from, always short and sweet. He could only really tell me when he was on Coruscant or Carrick.”

“Special ops, right? Makes sense.”

She nodded. “Well, whaddaya say we go poke around for that vaporator guy? And the droids? See what we can turn up?”

“Right behind ya, Captain.”

They kept busy that afternoon, pretending to make a holocall with their borrowed ID and instantly being set upon by assassins; they made short work of them before scouting out a curious-looking astromech droid who was lingering outside a storefront. At the slightest provocation the droid went haywire. Corso took it down and dragged it behind a crate, where Jaxx’a’s deft fingers searched for its remote activation device and tagged the source of the signal as coming from out by a crashed barge.

“Ready for a sandy speeder ride?”

“Everythin’s sandy here, Jaax.” He grinned.

They returned to the cantina, where she’d stashed her speeder, and rode out to find their mysterious thief was a risk-taking Jawa. Corso spat out sand while Jaax’a talked with him. A short discussion and a pat on her armed hip had him promising to leave Anchorhead’s droids alone; Corso sighed as they hopped on the speeder again and resolved to keep his mouth more firmly shut against the grit that somehow worked its way between his teeth.

After a brief lunch, courtesy of the charitable vaporator manufacturer who was glad to hear he was no longer risking his head when making holocalls, they headed back to the spaceport, seeking out the hangar where the slaves were being held. They found it easily enough; Jaax’a cased out what she could from their hiding place.

“You know, I think we’re probably okay,” she whispered. “They obviously haven’t put it together that their contact’s taken off. I don’t see much security.”

“Your call,” he replied. His fingers were itching on the Sergeant’s hilt; he _hated_ slavers.

Jaax’a loosened her scattergun in its holster, counted her thermal dets with deft fingers, and silently slid Sparkles out. “All you.”

Corso leapt out of their hiding place behind a crate, Jaax’a’s head popped over, Sparkles shining under the dim lights, and the shrill keen of blaster fire began.

Jaax’a chuckled at Corso, laying about with his new carbine, their surprised enemy falling left and right. He was a highly _physical_ person, she’d realized, preferring to do things with his hands and rifle than by stealth. _A girl can appreciate that,_ she thought with a smirk. Yes, most definitely.

The coast clear, she scampered from her cover spot to another. Corso looked over his shoulder at her and she nodded to him, then showed him the thermal det in her hand. He backed off; like sheep, the gangsters clumped and followed, and Jaax’a’s det thumped right into the middle of the crowd. The heat from the explosion flashed over Corso through his armor, and he hefted his carbine and picked off those that tried to stand again.

They worked their way through the hangar, moving towards the captured citizens, when a big group came towards them. Jaax’a threw several thermal dets and entered the fray beside Corso, fighting hard and dirty, and they had just cleared enough space around them to take a breath when Jaax’a was suddenly yanked away by a harpoon. A heavily armed security team swarmed the area between them. Jaax’a struggled, fighting hard enough to put any other man down, but Corso didn’t think even Bowdaar would have had an easy time with the security chief who’d snagged her.

“Jaax!” He started throwing elbows and smashing faces with his carbine, fighting to get back to her. He saw her spit at the man grabbing her; he laughed and clocked her in the temple, hard. She wavered and slumped, head snapping back, collapsing in slow-motion to the ground, and Sparkles fired randomly as she it the duracrete and skidded behind a crate.

His shield generator began to flicker; he hadn’t been paying attention and realized it was severely overloaded. The team was driving him back against cargo crates; he dodged and jumped, getting into a clearer area. The security chief hefted his assault cannon and leveled it towards Corso. Jaax’a was curled on the floor, unconscious, behind him.

Corso cursed and made a split-second decision. Jaax’a had always been clear: fight hard and smart; save your own skin if you have to. As he heard the assault cannon fire, he gritted his teeth, turned, and ran. _Io. He should be here by now. I’ve got to find him._

He took off at a full sprint, hearing sickening laughter behind him; fury burned and fueled his escape. The elevator bay doors rattled with blaster fire as they closed behind him. As soon as the elevator opened on the main level, he tore off to the _Sunsoarer_ and her holocommunicator.

Risha looked up as he sprinted past; the ship rattled as his boots thundered on the durasteel. “What the stars?”

Corso flicked through the holo’s contacts furiously; he found _LannenIo13-4D_ and brought it up. After a moment, a cranky-looking, half-armored Cathar answered.

_“Who’re you?”_

“I’m with Jaax’a. Where’s Io? I need to talk to him.”

_“Captain Lannen, you mean?”_ The Cathar folded his arms over his chest. _“I’m not inclined to say.”_

“Black Sun’s got Jaax’a. I suggest you _get inclined._ ”

The Cathar raised an eyebrow, or whatever it was for a Cathar. “ _And how did you get this holofrequency?”_

“I’m on the _Sunsoarer_. Not that hard to see what frequencies came in recently. Io commed and told her you’d be here today.”

_“Where’s here?”_

“Anchorhead, dammit! Look, I don’t care, but if you can contact Io--Captain Lannen, whatever--and you won’t, I _swear_ I will shoot you personally--”

_“Difficult as he is, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shoot Jorgan,”_ Io said genially, appearing in the viewer. _“Something wrong?”_

“Black Sun got Jaax.”

Io let loose a string of curses and turned on Jorgan, gesturing firmly. The Cathar’s ears flattened and he stalked off. _“I’m getting him on Anchorhead Security to let us in. We’re waiting in orbit, they’re not too inclined to let us land. Give us an hour.”_

“I don’t know that we have the time--she didn’t go down easy. Slavers got her.”

_“Kriff! Jorgan, get us down_ now. _Riggs, I gotta kit up--I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”_

“Bring your medic.”

_“Copy that.”_

“Slavers?” Risha actually looked concerned; Bowdaar roared and slammed one paw into the wall. The _Sunsoarer_ shuddered.

“We took out most of them, but couldn’t clear out before security arrived,” he said quietly. “They grabbed her--knocked her out cold. I did what I could, but there were just too many.”

_“We will rescue her,”_ Bowdaar said, rather fiercely.

“Who was that on the holo?”

“He’s special ops or something--Jaax’s brother. Happens to be landing soon. Thank the stars.” Corso sighed. “Bowdaar, I want you ready on the other end of a comm in case we need you.”

_“Yes, Corso.”_

“Risha, got anything... useful?”

“Some nice dets... EMP blast generator?” She turned and moved towards the cargo hold; Corso followed. She rummaged through a bin and handed him a few packages, which he unwrapped and clipped to his belt. 

“Alright. I’m heading out.” He swallowed hard, stomach clenched at the thought of Jaax’a in the hands of slavers. _Stars, I hope we get her out in time._


	7. Tatooine: Enemy Hands

_The last thing she remembered was a bulky fist swinging._

Jaax’a came to slowly, her internal alarm bells blaring. She kept her eyes closed and her body limp, head lolling over the back of the chair she was tied to. It was highly uncomfortable, but doable for a moment longer.

As quickly as she could, she inventoried her body. Fingers and toes present, though half of the former were prickly-numb. Jaw--aching, but her teeth seemed sound enough, so probably not broken. Face, well, _let’s not think about that one_. One eye was probably swollen shut. Blast.

Swells of nausea were alerting her throat of impending stomach contents; she paired that with the grinding headache and came to the inevitable conclusion of a concussion. She battened down the heaving a moment longer and listened hard around her, then slowly let her good eye roll up and open.

One light guard to the left--good. No idea about the right; not good. And now, as the room swam and swayed, she _really_ had to puke.

So she did, all over the boots of the guard who had the misfortune of being on her blind side.

He exploded, cursing, and clocked her again. _Ow_ was her only coherent thought before another round of upchucking scalded her mouth and nose. Coughing, heaving, she barely heard heavy footsteps come up behind her and mercifully tilt her chair forward, letting her hang limp from her bonds. Able to puke and breathe at the same time, she dimly made out orders being shouted for a cleaning droid and for “you useless sons of Hutts to get the hypo!”

It hissed against her shoulder and a _very_ strong drug pounded her system as the chair was set back on its feet. The nausea ended immediately, but she felt the tell-tale misery of daylight serum creeping behind both eyes.

Of _course_ they’d have the nastiest stuff on the nastiest kriffing planet she never wanted to kriffing visit ever again kriff kriff _fek._

Her heart slowed to a dull pound and her senses leapt; she couldn’t move, the paralytic stilling any conscious reaction, but she could still _feel_ every sensation... mostly pain. Breathing became both vitally important and impossible. Her swollen eye felt as if a brand was held to it, her jaw was hanging open and unhinged on one side, her sinuses were wailing at the unwelcome introduction of stomach acid and the pins-and-needles prickling of her fingers, swelling past the bonds on her wrists, was the least of her true worries but quite possibly the most painful.

Of course, her brain worked just fine behind the fuzzy wall of torture serum that encapsulated it from the rest of her. _Please don’t let them start pulling teeth. I_ like _my teeth._

She busied herself with cataloging. She had no idea how long she’d been here. Where was here, anyway? How’d she get here? A Wookiee roar tickled in the back of her brain and she ignored it. No, no Wookiees were involved. At least she didn’t think.

Io? Was Io on... this planet? Somehow a green light ticked on but she couldn’t say how or exactly why. What she did know is that these were slavers and they’d left her clothes on so she might have some value and maybe not just for sex at least not yet. _I hope that means I’ll keep my teeth._

A sinking, aching pain thrummed in her chest; it bloomed like the suns on the planet she was on-- _what planet?!--_ and she realized it wasn’t external. _Whatwhatwhatwhatwhy--why--_

It pulled _hard_ , ached so bad; tears sprang to her eyes when all her physical hurts hadn’t pushed that particular threshold. She hammered at her brain to tell her. When the answer came, it was altogether unexpected and second nature at the same time.

_Corso._  

Screaming eternal blackness took her again.

 

Io was furious with Anchorhead Spaceport Security for keeping them waiting. He told Jorgan to write a formal complaint and headed to kit up, strapping on piece after piece of heavy armor and mentally cataloging his weapons.

“Dorne!”

“Yes sir?” She appeared as out of nowhere, as was her custom.

“Kit up. My sister found trouble.” _And this time I can do something about it._

“Yes, sir.”

“There are citizens involved, too--all probably injured. Bring your biggest medkit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And prep for a firefight.”

“Of course, sir.”

He continued to shrug into armor until he realized she was still standing at parade rest. “Dismissed.”

She saluted and departed, seemingly emotionless. _What did the kriffing Imps do to her? She’s human, I know that much, but a standard-issue C2-N2’s got more expression than she does sometimes..._

When Io headed for the holocomm, helmet under his arm, Elara Dorne was standing at parade rest, weapons holstered, medic’s bag full and slung over her back. How she kitted up so quick he didn’t know. Io tapped on the holocomm panel; it beeped and a transparent blue Wookiee appeared. Io blinked and could have sworn even Elara was taken aback.

“Ah... is Riggs there?”

He understood just enough Shyriiwook for Bowdaar’s point to be clear, if rough. _“Corso ready to fight. Not here.”_

“Right. Where am I meeting him?”

_“Spaceport observation.”_

“Thanks...?”

_“Bowdaar.”_ The Wookiee nodded. _“Go now.”_

Io saluted and closed the channel, then popped on his helmet. Elara did the same. “Let’s move.”

They jogged through the spaceport terminal; Elara was a front of calm, but Io’s anxiety was running hard in his veins. They found Corso easily: he was radiating fury and worry as he stalked back and forth, apparently aiming to wear a track in the durasteel. Spaceport security was watching him closely and travelers were avoiding him altogether.

“Riggs!”

Corso’s head snapped up and he ran to join them. “Hangar 21, behind you.” They kept moving towards the hangar, weaving through the spaceport. “It’s been a kriffin’ hour and a half! Where’ve you been?”

“Trying to land. Get us up to speed.”

“We were reconning, figurin’ we’d see heavy security, but there was nobody ‘round, so we went in. We got pretty close to the locals--they’re in a forcefield in the back--but the sec chief showed up and it all went off. They grabbed her, knocked her out, and the entire team came after me--I hoofed it to find help.”

“You left her?!” _I am going to_ hurt _him._

“Sir, permission to--” A surprisingly pleasant, accented female voice emerged from the helmet; Corso twitched at the thought of bringing another woman into this.

“Spit it out, Dorne.”

“It was the wise choice, tactically, sir. Slavers aren’t likely to kill their captives, and we have a much higher chance as a group of completing the op. Sir.”

“You can break me in half when we get her back,” Corso added quietly. Io shook his head. 

 

This time, when her eye opened, she was dull. She felt shredded, used, done. Her throat ached along with the rest of her and her face was scratchy, itchy, like she’d been crying.

“Did the bitch finally shut up?”

“Yeah. That and passed out again.”

“Creepy. I’ve never heard someone scream like that.”

“Reaction to the serum?”

“Stars know.” A guard glanced her way and saw her befuddled blinking. “Tell him she’s awake.”

Footsteps. She dimly registered them, dimly registered more speaking, dimly processed and gave up when the answer to her equation wasn’t recognizable.

More footsteps. Heavy ones. A big shadow, cast over her. Sharpening pain over her scalp and a crack in her neck as her head tilted in ways it really shouldn’t and wouldn’t under power of her own.

“She’s useless. You gave her too much, Dags.” Abruptly the sharpness in her scalp ended and her neck turned to rubber. Her skull flopped back. “Stim her.”

“She just had daylight, boss, you’re not supposed to--”

“I couldn’t care less about _directions_.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

More hissing, stinging against her arm. She felt something like fire flooding her veins and could lift her head. A stream of spit ran down her chin from where her jaw hung slightly open, unable to close evenly. _Fixing that is gonna hurt._ She managed a thick swallow. She couldn’t really see, everything around her swimming hazily, faster, then slower, then rotating. Abruptly the fire rolled back and she went slack against her bonds again, not having realized she’d stiffened and braced. The guards standing on either side of her relaxed; one took his hand off his blaster.

Well, if her knowledge of illegal things was still any good, that certainly was.

She heard more words that made increasingly little sense to her. One guard looked over his shoulder, then at his partner, then pulled out a vibroblade and sliced through the rope tying one of her arms to the chair. _No cuffs? How far out am I?_

She didn’t fight, just stared dimly as the arm of her jacket was roughly shoved up and another guard rubbed the pale skin of her forearm firmly. It was only as an injector filled with a sparkling amber liquid was jammed against the network of her blue veins that she started to fight, and shortly that instinct, too, was overcome by the sweeping, swirling high that wrenched her to her feet and, encountering ropes, tipped her body to the floor.

The impact contorted her against the chair, her face hitting the duracrete. She felt blood spill from her nose, tasted it as it slid over the rim of her upper lip. Her jaw cracked and settled agonizingly into place as she tried to open her mouth to breathe, scream, maybe both at once. As the bonds holding her were cut, she thrashed, knocking down one guard and then the other, grimly hanging on to reality as the sickly-familiar high gripped her tight. The mercy of unconsciousness didn’t come until the seizure did, provoked by the overwhelming drugs dragging her body away to nothingness.


	8. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could never leave you with an unknown for long!
> 
> Buckle up, kiddos, this is a long one.

They’d arrived at the hangar; Corso crept to a hiding spot behind cargo crates and let the troopers scope out the area. His heart was pounding as he slid his carbine out silently and squeezed the grip, flexing his fingers rhythmically, trying to calm himself.

“You good, Riggs?” Io asked in a whisper.

“Never better.” His voice was flat.

“There’s not a great way to do this, not with civs to worry about. I think we just... go.”

“Runnin in blastin’?”

“More or less.”

Corso rocked his weight back on his heels and looked around; they were in a dark corner and not easily spotted. “Right behind you.”

“Let’s move.” Io trotted out first, bent at the waist; he didn’t wait to be seen, just aimed his giant of a weapon and fired. It was like lava pouring, green and orange light spilling from the barrel. The lightly armored guards fell like flimsiplast cutouts. Dorne and Corso picked off outliers who escaped the barrage, blasters pinging.

The heavy security team was quicker this time; they spilled forth, shouting. Io’s cannon flattened the first group. Corso tore into the second, shooting and hollering; Dorne fired easy, measured shots. The security team saw Io, a hulking mass in Republic-issue plastoid, emerge from between two crates, and hesitated.

That was all it took for him to knock them flat.

The fight was embarrassingly easy. Corso’s one blaster burn was healed in a breath between battles, testament to Dorne’s incredible efficiency as a medic. With the gangsters mowed down, Corso provided cover fire while Dorne figured out the computer system that maintained the forcefields.

The system flickered out and the captive civilians cheered; Io ran in and back out again, shaking his head. No Jaax’a. Io cast his eyes around the hangar, instinctively hunting for an ambush, and saw, glinting in a corner, a familiar little blaster.

“So you came back, huh?” The hulking security chief appeared again, moving down the ramp from the upper level. “You know, that _girl’s_ been an awful lot of trouble. Especially now that you’ve let loose all my slaves, I don’t really have a good reason to keep her alive.”

Io bristled; Corso slid his mark up from the chief’s leg to his forehead.

“In the name of the Republic, I order you to stand down.” Io’s voice was firm.

“Why would I do that? You have no authority here. The planet’s lawless. Czerka runs most of it. We have the rest.” He waved and a pair of heavily armed guards moved down the stairs, Jaax’a between them; each gripped her by an upper arm with a blaster trained on her. Her head was lolling forward and they were dragging her across the duracrete, her legs crumpled, pants and jacket ripped, one sleeve wrenched up to her elbow. Corso couldn’t tell if she was conscious. One guard sported a bloody nose, though, and the other was limping. _That’s my girl._ _Always a fighter._

“You’ve already cost me enough to just shoot her and be done with it... but if you leave, maybe I’ll sell her. Recoup some of my costs. Some owners like them feisty, although why I don’t know.”

Corso glanced at Io, then slowly let his stance relax, holstering his weapon cautiously. His fingers crept to the EMP generator he carried. Io clearly recognized it and his helmet twitched in a fraction of a nod. Corso flicked out his fingers and curled them back around the generator, hoping it looked like his hand was simply resting on his belt.

“That’s the right idea... give up and you all live. Everybody wins, don’t you see? She lives, I get a slave to sell, and you walk away unharmed. I didn’t realize the Republic could be so reason--”

As the chief talked, Corso flicked out three fingers, then two, then one. Io and Elara dropped flat as the generator went off. The blast threw the security chief and guards--and Jaax’a, regrettably--twenty feet, flattening them to the duracrete, cracking heads. Corso yanked a det off his belt, hurled it at the chief, and sprinted towards Jaax’a. Dorne’s pistol pinged behind him twice, and the guards holding her, struggling to rise, went limp. Io’s cannon thrummed once. Corso could only assume it was towards the security chief; he was silent.

Corso knelt beside Jaax’a, ripping off his glove and checking for a pulse. Dorne knelt on her other side, pulling out a portable scanner. Satisfied she was at least alive, Corso busied himself dragging the dead guards away from her.

“Report, Dorne.” Io stood above his sister, frowning. Black eye, bloody nose--they hurt, but you didn’t have to get hit hard to get them. Corso glanced up and his gut twisted to see Sparkles tucked in Io’s belt.

“Could be worse, sir,” she replied, opening a medkit and pulling out a hypo and administering it as the scanner spat out information. “No serious injuries beside a concussion, although that’s not to say she’s in good shape. Several drugs in her system, all illegal, and--this is difficult for me to ask, Captain, I’m sorry, but--does she take spice?” Elara had Jaax’a’s arm in her hands, and the bruise from the rough injection into her vein was clearly visible under a trickle of blood.

“No!” Corso and Io replied at once. Dorne must have been frowning under the helmet; she pulled out another hypo, pressing it to Jaax’a’s neck. It hissed as it emptied.

“She’s been dosed with a lot. Enough for a heavy user. She’ll have to be kept sedated until it’s out of her system.” Dorne stood. “I should see to the civilians, sir.” She handed a pack of kolto wipes to Corso. “Clean anything you see.” He nodded as she jogged off. In the space of two hours, everything had changed; he felt the knowledge sink into the pit of his belly as he drew a wipe out of the package, starting with the bruised injection site.

Io sighed. Corso saw it weighing him down underneath the heavy armor. “Who was your contact about this op?”

“Mayor or sheriff or something. He’s outside the spaceport.”

“There a Republic representative out here?”

“Not really. Ran into him already. He’s SIS.” Corso was staring at Jaax’a, his ungloved hand resting gently on her shoulder.

Io nodded and flicked on his comm. “Jorgan? Figure out who I can get these civs to where it’s safe... I don’t know about injuries--Dorne! We got injuries?”

“Nothing severe, Captain. A med-droid would be wise, but not urgent.”

“Just need a decent med-droid... we’re in the spaceport. No, spaceport security is as corrupt as they come, we need _Republic_ people. Riggs says SIS is here... Riggs, who’s here?”

“Captain Fauler or somebody.” Corso was carefully wiping the bruising around Jaax’a’s right eye; he held the kolto-soaked fabric to her skin for a long moment and when he removed it, the swelling had eased somewhat. The bloody nose had slowed on its own, so he moved next to her split and swollen lip.

“Jorgan, his name’s Fauler... well, I don’t care, just figure something out. We got rescued civs who need Republic help. Provide it! Lannen out.” Io sighed. “Dammit, Jaax. Why does this kind of thing happen to you?” He crouched down and ruffled his sister’s hair gently. “We should move. Dorne, she okay to be moved?”

“Carefully, sir.”

Io reached forward, but Corso was quicker, easing her into his arms. Io tucked her left hand into her lap as Corso cradled her and didn’t miss the brief kiss Corso brushed against her forehead before he stood. She was limp, her head tucked against Corso’s shoulder, feet swinging.

The rescued civilians were huddled in a group, sealing kolto patches over their scrapes and sporting the occasional bandage. Jorgan jogged in, shouting into his wrist comm, followed by a small group of harried security guards bearing Republic insignias.

“I’ll take care of them, Captain,” Jorgan said, nodding towards the civilians. “Got backup coming.”

“All of you, go with my sergeant,” Io told the group. “Jorgan will make sure you get taken care of proper.”

“Thank you,” the eldest civilian said. “You saved our lives.”

“Thank her,” Io said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at his sister’s limp form. “She came in after you.”

With the civilians slowly crowding around Jorgan, who was efficiently organizing the group, Io, Dorne and Corso left. The trip back to the _Sunsoarer_ ’s hangar was short; Jaax’a didn’t stir. When they made it back to the ship, Io simply pounded on the hull. Bowdaar opened the hatch immediately, vibrosword in hand, roaring.

“Let us in, Bowdaar,” Corso said from behind Io, who had stepped in front of the man holding his sister and was ready to reach for his cannon.

 _“Where is the captain?”_ Bowdaar shouted. Io looked over his shoulder and moved out of the way; Bowdaar saw Jaax’a in Corso’s arms and bellowed something unintelligible as he disappeared back into the ship. Corso followed and saw Bowdaar had gone to Jaax’a’s cabin, opening the door and turning on the lights ahead of them. Corso nodded to him and went inside, laying Jaax’a on the bed. Dorne removed her helmet and stepped up to Jaax’a’s side.

“I should do a more thorough exam, to be safe, Sir, ah--Riggs. If it’s no trouble, I suggest you leave? She might prefer it.” Dorne glanced at both men. “I need to check under her armor. Sirs.”

Io nodded and glanced at Corso, who was staring at the foot of the bed aimlessly, unseeing. Io reached out and gently gripped Corso’s shoulder; he jumped and looked about. “Wha? Huh? Oh--right...”

Io gently steered Corso out of Jaax’a’s cabin, palming the door panel. When the door closed, Corso wandered towards the galley, where he slumped in the booth, head against his forearms on the table. Io glanced around, setting his helmet down. “Nice little place. Haven’t been aboard in a while.”

“Oh? Yeah...”

Io shook his head at him. “Kaff?”

“It’s...” Corso waved towards the cabinets vaguely. Risha appeared, eyes lighting on Io.

“And you are...” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“Io--Jaax’s brother.”

“How is she?”

“Beat up, shot full of spice and stims. My medic’s with her. Can we get this guy some kaff?”

Risha glanced around Io to see Corso hunched in the booth, staring holes into the table. “No kidding.” She flowed through the motions of making a big pot of kaff, pulling down several mugs. As the drink brewed, Bowdaar appeared, sniffing. Risha poured, pulling down a fifth mug as Dorne came in. “Kaff?”

“I--I wouldn’t mind,” she replied, startled and smiling at the presence of another woman. “That is, if we’re off-duty, sir?” she asked Io.

“Relax, Dorne,” Io said. “Regular party ‘round here. At least it would be, if we were in a medcenter.” He glanced over his shoulder towards Jaax’a’s door. “Status report?”

“She’s regaining consciousness, although I hope she’ll stay asleep. She won’t be feeling up to much for a while, I’m afraid. Spice and stims with a significant concussion--I’ve given her medication to counteract what I can and sedatives so that we can minimize the discomfort.”

“Should someone be with her?”

“That would be wise--it’s hard to tell how she’ll respond to the medications, and with the stimulants and spice, seizures are a significant risk. The first twelve to twenty-four hours will be the most critical.” She sipped her kaff. “The sedatives should wear off in an hour or two--she should be allowed to wake, preferably on her own, so I can evaluate her again.”

Corso suddenly shuddered, noticed the mug of kaff in front of him, and gripped it. “I’ll go."

“You sure? You look like you could use--” Io looked concerned.

“Jus’ let me lose the gear.” He gulped his too-hot kaff, made a face, and headed for the crew quarters.

Risha watched him leave and shook her head. “I knew there was something there, but...”

Io smiled grimly. “Shoulda seen him when we caught up to him. Worse than a momma manka cat.”

“Sergeant Dorne--you think she’ll be okay?” Risha asked. Bowdaar roared agreement.

“Just Dorne or Elara, please. She should be. Her vitals are strong despite the drugs.”

“She’s a fighter,” Io said, musing into his mug. “More than I think any of us know.”

Corso passed them silently on his way to Jaax’a’s cabin, clad in pants and a shirt and carrying a datapad.

He bumped the door panel and it opened; the lights were low inside, enough to see comfortably but not bright. He reached for the panel as he went inside and the door slid closed, enveloping them in the humming silence of a ship. He headed for the comfortable chair she kept in the corner, set his kaff and datapad on the table beside it, and looked at her, resting seemingly peacefully in bed.

Her armored jacket and pants were folded and stacked neatly on her desk and she was wearing her customary tank top, the sheet pulled up to her belly. Bruises and scratches, half-healed by kolto, peppered her arms. Her face looked better; the black eye had eased and become less colorful, though it was by no means healed.

Corso, unable to resist, moved to the bedside, half-leaning, half-sitting on the edge of the bed. His gut clenched at seeing her; she was pale and sweating, her eyes flitting rapidly under closed lids. He moved to the ‘fresher, found a cloth, soaked it in cool water and laid it across her forehead.

 _At least that’s somethin’ I could do,_ he thought, returning to the plush chair and settling in to wait, flicking aimlessly through his datapad for reading material.

Time passed; he occasionally heard the others in the galley, usually Bowdaar’s roars, muffled through the durasteel cabin. Io poked his head in at one point, nodding slowly and retreating as Corso shook his head. He had given up the datapad and was sitting, holding his cold mug of caf, when the sheets rustled. He glanced up and saw her starting to thrash, still asleep, but fighting. He stepped to the door and opened it, calling quietly for Elara.

She appeared in the hallway, then stopped and returned to the galley. Corso was at Jaax’a’s side when Elara came in, holding a large bowl and her medkit.

“She’s likely to be sick,” she said by way of explanation. Corso nodded. They waited as Jaax’a slowly came to; when her eyes flickered open, she froze, glancing at their faces, before her hand raised to her mouth.

Elara held out the bowl while Corso got an arm under Jaax’a and held her upright. Jaax’a’s stomach upended whatever contents were in it, which wasn’t much, thankfully; she heaved until she cried, gasping, tears running down her face. Elara grabbed the cloth, still sitting on the bed, and wordlessly offered it to Jaax’a once her stomach had quieted, departing with the bowl for the ‘fresher.

“Ugh,” Jaax’a groaned, sounding miserable, wiping her face with shaking hands.

Elara came out, the bowl rinsed, and set it by the bed, looking at Jaax’a with a critical eye. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Right here,” Corso murmured, jerking his head behind him at her bedside table. Elara handed it to Corso, who helped Jaax’a sip at it; she waved vaguely at the bowl, which Elara handed over. Jaax’a spat out several murky mouthfuls of water, grimacing.

“Done?” Jaax’a nodded wearily and Elara took the bowl back to the ‘fresher. Jaax’a drank a few mouthfuls before shaking her head at the cup; she was limp against Corso, exhausted. He twisted awkwardly to set the cup on the table and settled himself back behind Jaax’a to support her.

“Captain, I need to examine you again,” Elara said quietly, professional yet kind. Despite her condition Jaax’a’s eyebrows knitted; Corso snorted.

“Don’t call her captain--she hates it.” Jaax’a closed her eyes and smiled faintly.

“Alright, then, Jaax’a. You have a concussion and were dosed with several drugs--I gave you medication to counteract them, but you’re still quite ill. I need to see how serious your concussion is.”

Jaax’a nodded, barely, eyes still closed.

“I need you to open your eyes, please,” Elara said, opening the medkit she’d brought and pulling out a tiny light. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

Jaax’a groaned as the light shined, wincing, but she managed to do so, though it made her look ready to puke all over again.

“Nausea, obviously... dizziness?” Jaax’a nodded, once. “Do you know where you are?”

“Mmm... a ship,” she croaked, her eyes fluttering closed.

“What ship?”

“Mine.”

“Name?”

“ _Sun...soarer._ ” Elara glanced to Corso for verification; he nodded.

“Who is the man behind you?”

Her lips flickered in a tiny smile and Corso’s heart twitched. “Corso.”

“Who are the other members of your crew?”

“Risha and... uhh... Bowdaar.” She was barely whispering now, not even trying to sit up; Corso was holding her against him firmly, her head lolling against his shoulder.

“Satisfactory. A bit slow on the recall, but I’m not too worried. She can sleep all she wants.” Elara put the penlight away and pulled out a hypo, spinning a dial on the tube. “Jaax’a, I’m giving you some pain medication. How’s your stomach?”

“Nguh” was the unintelligible reply; Elara pressed the first hypo to Jaax’a’s arm, then removed another from her bag and administered it. “That should keep it settled. Just rest.”

As the pain medication kicked in, Jaax’a’s body went even more limp, if that was possible. Elara zipped her medkit, Corso settled Jaax’a among the pillows again, and as he pulled the blankets up around her, she reached slowly for his hand. He caught it in both of his, holding it tenderly, his chest feeling like caving in. Elara noticed, out of the corner of her eye, and chose that moment to leave, silent.

“Sleep,” he said to her, voice quiet.

“Don’t... go,” she managed, throat working but failing to produce further sound. Her grip was stronger than he’d expected.

“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll be back.”

She tried to nod, but seemingly fell asleep in the middle of it; he gently set her hand beside her, then slid outside her cabin, the door closing behind him, and rested his forehead against the durasteel of the hallway, hands forming fists at his sides.

Io came towards him just as Corso snapped back upright and slammed his fist into the chilled metal; he didn’t react to the pain he must have felt, just took a deep breath and turned to face Jaax’a’s brother.

“You can break me, now,” he muttered.

“And why would I want to do that? You seem determined to do it yourself.” Io raised an eyebrow at the other man and leaned against the wall, the plastoid plates of his armor clinking, eyes scanning him critically.

“I _left_ her there.” Corso spun and slammed the fist into the durasteel again; the impact echoed in the empty hall. He showed no reaction besides stretching his fingers out, after, but Io knew he’d have heavy bruises and wasn’t surprised by the blood welling out of his split knuckles.

“You _saved_ her. Probably would have gotten both of yourselves killed if you’d stayed. Slavers are funny business, Riggs.”

“I couldn’t... I couldn’ get to her. They _grabbed_ her an’...” He started shaking, his breath coming quickly, and Io recognized a man going into some variety of shock. He pushed off the wall and went to Corso, slinging an arm around the man’s shoulders and half-dragging him towards the galley. Elara looked up from her datapad, saw Io gesture to her medkit, and opened it. Wordlessly she grabbed kolto bandages. Io pushed Corso down into the booth and picked up his left hand, which was already swelling, trickling blood down his fingers. Elara shook her head and Io thought she _might_ have rolled her eyes.

Io recognized broken fingers when he saw them; one of Corso’s was at an odd angle. “You’re no good to her without working hands,” he told the younger man. “Can’t shoot with busted fingers.”

“That’s why I used the left.” Corso stared at his hand, grimacing as Elara straightened the broken finger and injected kolto under the skin. The bone crackled as it knitted and he shuddered. “Third time I’ve broken that one.” The pain seemed to have chased away his panic; he was calm as he inspected the hand.

Bowdaar and Risha paused from their game of holochess; the Wookiee slammed his paw into the table, scattering the holograms. “For stars’ sakes,” Risha exclaimed, although her ire could have been pointed towards either Corso or her opponent.

“I’ll go sit with her; you need a break.” Io stood.

Corso shook his head. “I told her I’d come back. She didn’t want me to leave.” Elara examined the other fingers, decided they were alright, and put an adhesive kolto patch over his knuckles, pressing firmly for a seal.

“Leave that on for five or six hours,” she said, looking at him sternly. “And don’t use the hand much for twelve.”

Io, meanwhile, threw up his hands and walked away from the table. “Fine. Fine! My own sister doesn’t want me. What’s the world coming to?”

Corso stood, recognizing Io’s sarcasm, but not really appreciating it. “Gimme a little time with her and we’ll trade.”

“Sure thing. Just... don’t break any more fingers, huh?”

Corso nodded as he trudged back towards Jaax’a’s cabin, letting himself in silently. She was sleeping uncomfortably, tossing, and he went to her, picking up her hand. She curled toward him, getting close to the edge, so he perched there and watched her sleep.

The events of the day were catching up to him, and the kolto was making him a little woozy; he felt himself sliding off the bed and started, realizing he’d almost dozed off. He let her hand go, intending to go back to the chair, but as soon as he moved away, she began getting restless again.

Sighing, he toed off his boots, slid his arms underneath her, and scooted her to the middle of the bed, then sat beside her against the pillows and held her hand again. She calmed and curled towards him, her forehead resting against his hip. He set his bandaged hand in his lap and tried to ignore the throbbing, wondering why punching the wall had seemed like a good idea in the first place.

Io poked his head in an hour later to see Corso asleep sitting up beside Jaax’a, who finally rested peacefully. He shook his head as he left them, muttering something about getting some shut-eye of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So: I have written pretty far ahead, here, and I've run into a sticky spot. Game canon has these two hopping into bed significantly before they say any three little words. (See new very explicit story about said hopping into bed.)
> 
> Any protestations if I mess with that? (Not that I haven't already taken significant liberties with canon...)


	9. Aboard the Sunsoarer: Recovery

Corso woke up rather quickly thanks to a thrashing Jaax’a having kicked him in the shin. She was tangled in the blankets, a sheen of sweat over her face and chest, mumbling and striking out. Corso shook her and nearly earned himself a black eye for his trouble. “Jaax! Jaax’a!”

Her movements slowed, and with his good hand he began to tug the blankets back into order, freeing her and hoping to calm her down. Her eyes opened slowly and she glanced back and forth before finding Corso’s face; she relaxed, shuddered and shook her head as if to clear it, then winced.

“You remember much?” he asked quietly as he rearranged the blankets covering her and the pillows behind him, settling next to her again.

“More than I want,” she croaked, eyes closed again. “Stars, my head hurts.”

“Concussion,” he replied. “An’ spice and whatever else. Elara--your brother’s medic--patched you up pretty good, but it might be a while ‘til you’re ship-shape.”

“Great. Just great.” She rested her forearm over her eyes. “Can I get some water?”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the cup at her bedside, then headed for the ‘fresher to get fresh water. She’d carefully scooted herself up on the bed and was pushing pillows behind her when he returned. He helped with the pillows, then handed her the glass. She gripped it with both hands, sipping slowly; he saw the water in the glass quiver, realizing she was shaking.

“Want me t’get Elara?”

She closed her eyes, breathing slowly. “Kriff. No, but you prob’ly should.” She glanced up at Corso, squinting. “I... dabbled a bit with spice, once. Just long enough to get me in trouble. This... it’s bad.”

He nodded and moved to the door, socked feet silent on the floor, his boots in his hand. “I hope you don’t... think less of me,” she said, quietly, sounding defeated.

He paused by the door panel and looked back at her. “No, Jaax,” he said. “I don’t.”

The silence stretched for a long moment while she took another sip of water. “Thank you,” she said. He nodded to her, several times, and left her to the unpleasant swirling in her veins and her pounding head.

Neither trooper was in the galley; Risha was making kaff, wearing grease-smeared coveralls, a hydrospanner sticking out of one pocket. She looked over at Corso and smiled kindly. “How’s she doing?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the roughness of a long day and night over his jaw and cheeks. “Okay, I guess. Where’s Elara?”

“She and Io left--said they’d be back in a few hours. Probably pretty soon, now.” Corso glanced at the chrono on the wall; it was four in the morning, not that it really mattered. “Don’t take this badly--but you look like hell. I can go sit with her while you clean up.” She extended the mug she’d just poured towards him. “You look like you could use this more than me.”

His lips twitched. “Thanks, Risha.”

She nodded and poured another cup while he disappeared down the hall into the quarters he shared with Bowdaar. Risha took several sips of fresh kaff, then headed for the engine room, stepped out of her coveralls, left her hydrospanner sitting atop them, and headed for Jaax’a’s cabin.

She looked up at Risha, looking pale, shaky and sweaty. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Risha noticed the half-full water cup about to spill and reached for it. “You still want that?”

“No. Thanks.” Her eyes closed and she swallowed.

Risha set the cup aside and looked at her critically. “Spice and stims are hard to fight off, Jaax’a.” The withdrawal symptoms were fairly obvious, if you knew what to look for, and Jaax’a was an open textbook.

“Yeah.”

“You want to clean up?”

“I feel disgusting.”

“Well, then.”

Slowly Jaax’a maneuvered herself to the side of the bed; Risha set her mug down and slung an arm under her shoulders to help her stand. She was wobbly and it clearly took her full effort to move towards the fresher and stay upright. She was clad only in a tank top, bra and underwear. _Less to get off,_ Risha thought. _Probably a good thing._

“You should sit,” Risha said, and helped her ease down onto the floor of the shower. She grabbed the soap and shampoo and set them on the ground as well, then turned around as Jaax’a began to tug her shirt over her head. “Let me know when you want the water on.”

Several moments, thumps, and muffled curses later, she heard the soft rustle of cloth being tossed and glanced down to see Jaax’a’s clothes outside the shower stall. “‘Kay.”

Risha reached in, keeping her back to Jaax’a, and turned the water on. “Cooler?” Jaax’a asked after a moment, and Risha tapped the down arrow on the temperature panel. “Thanks.”

Risha shut the door. “I’m gonna grab my kaff, I’ll be right back.” Returning with her mug, she sat on the closed toilet. The shower plasteel was clear but clouded, allowing Jaax’a privacy but Risha enough of a view to be able to tell if she passed out.

Long moments passed as Jaax’a worked shampoo into her hair and rinsed it. “Can you get me a cloth?” she asked, voice distorted by the glass and water. “In the cabinet.”

Risha stood, opening the cabinet and reaching for the stack of towels. “Incoming,” she said, reaching up above the shower door and dropping the cloth down in front of Jaax’a.

“Thanks.”

Risha returned to her seat and mug, drinking deeply while the kaff was still hot. Several minutes later, she heard quiet splashes, then the water turning off.

“You okay?”

“Auto-timer on the shower. I’m done, though.”

Risha drank the last of her kaff, then grabbed a towel and opened the shower door. Slowly Jaax’a moved to a kneel, where Risha wrapped the towel around her shoulders and helped her stand. Jaax’a leaned against the wall while she tugged the towel around herself more snugly. “There’s a robe in my closet,” she said. Risha left and returned with the deep blue robe; Jaax’a stood long enough to get her arms in it and wrap it around her, letting the towel drop. Businesslike, Risha took the towel and ran it down Jaax’a’s legs, then stood and toweled her short hair.

“Thanks for all this,” Jaax’a said quietly.

“I suspect Corso would have liked to help, but you know the farmboy,” Risha said, a smile in her voice. “Too proper and polite for his own good.” Jaax’a’s lips twitched in a tentative smile.

Risha helped Jaax’a back to her bed, shaking out the blanket and rearranging the pillows before settling Jaax’a in it. Her eyes closed immediately, the shower having exhausted her.

She heard quiet voices in the hall; Io and Elara, followed by a much-improved Corso, appeared in the doorway. “Isn’t it a bit early for the welcoming committee?” Risha asked dryly.

“Gotta check on my little sis,” Io said, moving to her bedside; Risha stepped back to stand by Corso, who had noticed the wet hair and straightened bed.

“Thanks for helping her clean up,” he said, voice lowered.

“Least I could do,” Risha replied. Elara looked at her over her shoulder and smiled; Risha nodded in reply, then disappeared out the door to return to her engine modifications. Corso sat in Jaax’a’s chair while Io stood by her and Elara ran a diagnostic scan.

Jaax’a was fighting sleep again, but managed to open her eyes long enough to make eye contact with Io and squeeze his hand. He smiled. “You got pretty roughed up, sis.”

“So Corso said,” she replied softly.

“You’re still in withdrawal from the drugs, but improving,” Elara said, returning the scanner to her belt. “Not dehydrated, which is excellent. The concussion, however, will have to heal on its own.”

“Had worse.”

“I’d imagine. Would you like anything for the discomfort?”

“Somethin... take the edge off?” Elara nodded, selected a hypo from her medkit, and pressed it to Jaax’a’s neck; her nose wrinkled and she sighed.

“Sleep is the best thing I can prescribe,” Elara said, zipping her medkit. “I wouldn’t have advised a trip to the shower so soon, but it looks like you did alright.”

“Tired.” Her eyes closed.

“Good.” Elara shouldered the medkit. “I’ll leave you be.” She glanced at Io, who was looking at his sister’s face, and seemed thoughtful.

Io rested his hand on his sister’s shoulder, leaning down. “You know, sis,” he said quietly, glancing over at Corso before looking down at her. “Corso’s been taking real good care of you. I don’t think I’ll break him in half after all.”

She snorted weakly, her lips twitching. Io squeezed her shoulder and stood; as he left, he nodded to Corso, wordlessly handing his sister back into the other man’s care.

Corso didn’t move for a time after the door slid shut, the room dimly lit and silent except for Jaax’a’s quiet breathing. He didn’t think she knew he was there and was surprised when she quietly asked his name.

“I’m here,” he replied from his seat across the room, and the sheets rustled.

“Don’t leave,” she said, voice small. He stood and went to the bed; her eyes flickered open just long enough to locate his face. “So tired.”

He sighed and toed off his boots, then laid down next to her on top of the blankets, trying to be less aware that her robe had shifted and was exposing far more of her creamy skin than he’d seen before. “Sleep, Jaax,” he said, tugging a pillow under his head.

She mumbled something that he thought included his name; his heart melted a little and  as she fell asleep beside him, he decided this was something he wanted every day for the rest of his life.

 

When she awoke, the hammering in her head had eased a little, and she felt the sticky-sweet taste of kolto coating the back of her tongue. She could see better out of her swollen eye and her jaw wasn’t nearly as sore. Her neck ached, though, and she generally felt like she’d gone three rounds with a rancor.

Io appeared in her still-blurry field of vision, eyebrows knit together in concern. She attempted a smile up at him and he returned it. “How’re you feeling?”

“Could be worse,” she replied, voice scratchy. Io reached for the cup of water beside the bed and offered it to her. She carefully shifted to a sitting position, remembering vaguely to tug the edges of her robe closed again, and took the cup, drinking carefully.

“You’ve been out for ten hours,” he replied, taking the cup from her when she was done. “Elara’s been in a couple times, giving you kolto and pain hypos.”

“Corso?”

“Fell asleep with you, couple times. Finally hustled him off to his own bed a little while ago.”

She nodded, staring at her unsteady hands. Io continued. “He’s taking all this... pretty well, actually.” _Especially for a man as hopelessly in love as he is._

“They gave me spice,” she said, quietly.

“I know.” Io reached out and touched her shoulder; she was trembling. “You okay?”

She rubbed at her forearm absently. “I can still feel it.” Her brush with addiction had been enough; getting clean had been brutal, and there was a considerable fear of falling prey to the drug again that lurked in her brain. Io had been there through the worst of her recovery and knew exactly what she meant.

“It won’t get you again,” he said.

Dizziness was slowly claiming the back of her skull and she closed her eyes, resting her head back against the pillow. “I hate concussions.”

“Corso and I talked it over--we know you got at least two hard hits to the head, probly more. Amazing it’s not worse, really.”

“Elara coming back soon?”

“Don’t think so. Kolto doesn’t do much for your brain, you know, and the rest of you healed up pretty quick.”

“I’m... gonna sleep, then.”

“Take your time, sis. Brass is lettin’ me take a few days long as I do some grunt work while I’m out here.”

“Jorgan’s gotta be pissed.”

“He said something about shootin’ womp-rats when he disappeared yesterday. Can’t blame him, they’re annoying buggers. Me, I just avoid ‘em, but he’s Cathar. Can’t help but hunt.”

Jaax’a’s lips turned up in a smile as she drifted off to Io’s voice talking about his squad, probably giving away classified intel in the process. She wondered, just before she fell asleep, if Elara would show up in time to hear her besotted brother talk about her.

 

The ship was quiet when Corso woke up. He glanced at his chrono; six hours had passed since Io had woken him from his awkward post beside Jaax’a and shooed him out to rest. He shook his head to clear it. _Apparently I needed that more than I thought._

Rubbing his hands over the scruff on his cheeks, he swung out of his bunk and eschewed his boots, his socked feet appreciating the chance to stretch out. After a quick stop in the ‘fresher, he headed for the galley and a mug of kaff, tying his dreads up as he walked.

There was no sign of Bowdaar, Risha, Io, or Elara. Corso supposed that was a good thing; they wouldn’t have left if Jaax’a wasn’t well on the mend. He poured hot water into the cone containing the ground kaff and refilled it as the brew trickled into his mug. He’d grown used to this; Jaax’a was a stickler for fresh, real kaff, not instant as was popular, and while he’d made a significant mess the first few times he’d made it, he found the process methodical and soothing to his pre-caffeinated brain.

As he stirred sugar in, he thought he’d go check on Jaax’a. _She’s probably fine, you dummy,_ he told himself. _Sleepin’, like she should be._

As it were, he was wrong. He turned around, mug in hand, and nearly dropped it upon seeing Jaax’a slowly easing herself down the hallway, leaning more than a little on the wall for balance. Corso set his mug down hurriedly, uncaring that the hot liquid sloshed over the edges, and moved towards her briskly.

“Hey, Jaax, should you be--?” He reached for her and she shook her head, breathing heavily.

“Let me do this,” she said quietly, her voice rough. 

Corso swallowed hard and nodded. “Right next t’you, then.”

She was shaking hard by the time she made it the fifteen feet to the galley, Corso beside her with his arms ready to jump out and catch her should she topple. It was a near thing, once or twice. She sat down hard in the booth once she reached it, sucking in air like it was soup, tugging at her robe to tighten it.

“Can I get you somethin’? Tea?” He knew his captain’s affinity for her sweet, spicy brew when she wasn’t up for kaff. She nodded tiredly and he set about making it, adding hot water to a mug and dropping a mesh packet of herbs in.

“There’s ginger in the cabinet. With the tea.” Corso opened the door again and looked through the container, finding another package. Inside were smaller packets with various labels; he picked the herb she requested and put it in the mug as well, then carried it to her. After making sure she wasn’t about to faint, he returned to the counter to wipe up the kaff he’d spilled, then joined her with his mug at the table.

She stared at the swirls of steam coming from her mug aimlessly until they’d disappeared. Corso was watching her, letting his own kaff go cold. “I’m not gonna ask if you’re alright, ‘cause you’re not,” he said. “But, I guess... how are you?”

She glanced up at him, then sipped her tea, setting it down carefully. There was a steely framework to her voice despite her fatigue. “Going crazy wanting spice,” she said, bluntly. “Having nightmares about daylight serum. Trying not to puke all the time. Fairly homicidal. How about yourself?”

“ _Daylight?_ ” Corso asked. “How the kriff... did they tell you or something?”

“I’ve been around the galaxy a few times, Riggs. They didn’t have to. I refused to carry a shipment of the stuff once. Ended up on the floor of the hangar paralyzed with a broken wrist and dislocated shoulder ‘til it wore off.” She lifted the mug to her lips again; it shook.

Corso swore and rested his forehead in his hands, realizing belatedly it’d been weeks since she’d called him Riggs, teasing aside.

“I’m angry, Corso,” she said, her voice softer, hands gripping her mug tightly. “Not with you. With myself. And... I lost Sparkles.”

At that, Corso smiled, if only halfway. “I’ve got her. Io found her when we went in.”

Jaax’a sighed. “What... happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“All I remember of the fight is being harpooned and waking up tied to a chair.”

“They separated us,” he said, quietly. “Right after the big one grabbed you, an entire sec team covered me... it was either get backed into a corner and have my shield gen fail or run.”

“You ran.”

“Yeah.” The admission was tightly given.

“Good.”

He swallowed, flexing his left hand, recently repaired. “I ran back here, found Io’s frequency in the holocomm, and as soon as he landed we went in and got you.”

“Somehow I doubt it was that easy.”

“No, but it wasn’t complicated. ‘Fraid I added to your concussion, though.”

She snorted. “How’s that?”

“Risha gave me an EMP generator. Two guards had blasters to your head... gotta hand it to your brother and his training. They saw me time it, dropped to avoid the blast. Knocked everybody else down and gave Elara time to shoot ‘em. She’s a crack shot.”

Jaax’a rubbed the back of her head absently. “That was crack to the head number four or five, best I can tell,” she said. “I think the damage was probably done already.”

They sat quietly, finishing tea and kaff, and Corso watched as she slowly drooped further and further over her empty mug. “Let’s get you back to bed,” he said, standing. She tried to straighten up in her seat but failed, body too weary to comply. “Easy, there.” He crouched beside her and slipped his arms under her legs and behind her back. Before she’d realized what he was doing, she was lifted up and tucked against his chest, being carried down the hallway. “Corso,” she mumbled, “is this really necessary?”

“Cut a man some slack,” he replied, neatly sidestepping the question. “Could use some help with the door, though.” She obliged, reaching out to hit the panel when he paused near it. The door slid open and he carried her in, hoping the next time he’d carry her to bed like this it would be for an entirely different reason. He settled her in the mess of pillows and blankets, then tugged and tucked until they were neater, at least. She’d melted into the mattress, exhausted body giving in, but the look on her face was resigned.

“I’ve had enough sleep,” she muttered.

“Nightmares?” he guessed. It wasn’t much of a leap; she’d brought it up herself.

“Yeah,” she admitted.

“I can stay,” he said, almost eagerly, rolling his eyes at himself as soon as he did. _You’ve been here constantly, Riggs. She probably doesn’t wanna look at your mug any more._

“I’d... like that,” she said, voice a little shy. “Could you get me a shirt and pants, though? This isn’t cutting it.” She tugged at the sleeve of her robe. “Middle drawer on the right.”

“Sure.” Corso crossed the room to her dresser and only half-hoped he wouldn’t be treated to a view of her more intimate items. The drawer she suggested was perfectly innocuous, though, holding a few soft shirts and loose pants, and he brought the top item from each stack to her. “I’ll just...” He moved towards the door, somewhat awkwardly. Jaax’a’s soft laugh chimed in his ears as the door slid shut behind him.

A few minutes (and several muffled curses) later, she called his name, and he appeared in the doorway as it slid open again. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking pale and drawn. “Help?” She jerked her head towards the ‘fresher; he slipped an arm under hers and steered her quickly across the room. He held her steady as she half-fell to her knees and heaved into the toilet, her stomach roiling and head spinning. There wasn’t much of anything to lose, but that hardly made a difference. Once her stomach quieted, Corso helped her stand, stood quietly behind her with his hands on her waist as she rinsed her mouth in the sink, and half-carried her back to bed. She was shaking with exhaustion.

“Hypo wore off?” he asked quietly as he pulled the blanket up around her. She nodded weakly in response. “Have any more?”

“Medpacs... bottom cabinet,” she whispered. Corso glanced around the room and gestured towards one of two cabinets; she shook her head and he headed for the other. It was well-stocked with any number of perfectly legal stims, injectors, and medpacs, and quite a few that he was fairly sure were on the darker side of the legal gray area. He opened the largest pack and sorted through it with deft fingers, picking up a hypo and reading the faint lettering on the side.

“Anti-emetic, right?”

“Yeah.”

He zipped the pack closed, closed the cabinet door, and carefully searched Jaax’a’s skin for a spot that hadn’t already been used.

“Not a lot of good choices,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“Don’t want to hurt you.” He pushed her sleeve up higher, exposing the top of her shoulder.

“Stingin’s better than puking,” she muttered. Corso found a spot on the back of her arm, near her armpit, he thought would work and double-checked for bruising. She interrupted him. “Not there. Skin’s thin, bruises easy. Try the bicep.” Her voice was rough and thin, but her tone was unexpectedly academic, in a way. The corner of Corso’s mouth curled in a smile, happy she was still instructing despite her condition.

“Can’t give up bossin’ me around, huh?”

“Never,” she whispered roughly. He smiled and kept feeling her arm; shortly he glanced at her, his fingers tapping a spot he thought suitable. She nodded and he pressed the hypo to her skin. It hissed and her face tightened for a moment before she sucked in a deep breath and relaxed.

He got up to throw the hypo away and by the time he’d returned, she was nearly asleep, lashes soft against the dark hollows of her sleepless face. He eased on to the bed beside her, taking care not to wake her, and spent a long time just watching her sleep, hoping she could finally get the deeply restorative rest she needed. After about an hour she started tossing, frown lines on her face deepening, and it was quickly obvious she was not having a pleasant dream. Corso touched her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Jaax? Hey, Jaax. Wake up.”

She shuddered and her eyes flew open, glancing around frantically. “Take it easy,” he said, reaching for her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at him and the air in her lungs let out with a whoosh as she tried to calm her breathing.

Instinctively Corso slid under the blanket and eased his arm under her. “I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he murmured as she curled towards him, her head on his shoulder. He tugged at the pillows to get comfortable and straightened the blanket over them. His fingers gently traced patterns over her back as she calmed after her dream.

The soft rumble of his voice and his feather-light touches were incredibly soothing to her frazzled nerves; as she started to doze off again, her fingers gripped his shirt, her hand resting on his chest. Corso’s heart clenched at seeing her, her face thin, the bruises still fading, the effects of the concussion taking their toll. _She needs to eat,_ he thought. _It’s been days._

He was starting to doze off himself when the door slid open to admit Elara, who froze. Corso lifted his head and nodded to her; the medic crept in quietly.

“She just got back to sleep,” he whispered. “Nightmare.”

“Has she eaten anything?” Elara frowned, voice low.

“No. Tea, but couldn’t keep it down. Gave her another hypo.”

Elara nodded and sighed. They both glanced towards the door as steady footsteps and a cheerful whistle echoed down the hall; Elara rolled her eyes and hurried to the door, waving frantically to someone in the hall, then making a decisive horizontal slash through the air. The noise stopped and a moment later Io crept in silently. His eyebrows knit as soon as he saw Corso. Elara whispered quickly to him and he nodded, relaxing, though he still didn’t seem thrilled about the sleeping arrangements.

“Just because I _said_ I wouldn’t break you doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind,” Io muttered, his voice pitched so that it carried quietly. Corso rolled his eyes and set his head back down on the pillow, choosing to ignore the trooper. He missed the ensuing exchange between troopers of Elara’s glare and Io’s look of surprise in return.

The troopers left the room, Elara palming the door panel behind her. She was frowning. “I apologize for my... insubordination, sir.” The apology was clearly forced.

Io snorted. “Insubordination? If rolling your eyes was insubordinate, Jorgan’d be on latrine duty for _years_. I’m just happy you can do it. Work on the apology thing, though.”

Elara shook her head. “I’m concerned for your sister. She’s still not able to eat.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s in bed with her.” Io crossed his arms over his chest.

“Sir, she’s having nightmares and seems to sleep better when he’s present. That aside, there’s more to their relationship than we know.”

“Tell me about it.” Io sighed.

Elara continued. “If his presence comforts her, she’ll heal faster.”

Io leaned against the wall, his head tipping back to rest against the durasteel. “It’s just hard for me to let her go. She’s always been the one to have trouble find her and I don’t find out until I have to see her like this.”

Elara stepped closer. “She’ll be alright, Captain. It might take some time, but she’ll heal.”

“I just don’t know about me,” he said, rubbing his hands over his face. “Little hard to run special ops when you know your sister’s across the galaxy risking her neck.”

“She has a good crew,” Elara replied. “And a good man.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door to the room where Corso had stood vigil nearly the entire time Jaax’a had been ill.

Io’s face softened as he, too, looked at the door. “Yeah, she does.” His gaze shifted to Elara’s face; after a moment her eyes met his, and he pushed away from the wall, closing the distance between them. “I like to think my squad’s pretty spiffy, myself.” A long moment passed, her eyes searching his face, and the barest hint of a flush tinted her cheeks.

_Mission accomplished,_ he thought, but instead of his ego being stoked, he felt a little something else uncurl in his chest instead.


	10. Tatooine: To the Lightspring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Smuggler story quest on Tatooine.

Once Jaax’a was able to get a meal to stay in her stomach, she improved rapidly. Havoc Squad had to go back to work--”Cleaning up after the locals,” Io commented jovially--and Jaax’a eventually had to nearly order Corso to go get some fresh air and stretch his legs. He and Bowdaar headed out to spend a couple hours in Anchorhead blowing off steam and Risha stayed with Jaax’a, drinking tea and filling her in on the local chatter while the captain cleaned Sparkles ‘til she shined again.

“So,” the stately woman asked, leaning her cheek on her elbow and nonchalantly twisting her mug on the table. “What’s with you and Corso?”

Jaax’a lifted an eyebrow as she worked the corner of a rag into a niche on the blaster, flicking out grit. “You interested?”

“I like keeping up on my gossip.” Risha sipped tea; Jaax’a felt the tickle that let her know she was treading water with a master manipulator. _No wonder she knows how to get us to Drayen’s fortune. Girl’s got practice._

Jaax’a sighed. “To be honest... I don’t really know.”

“There’s _something_ there, girl. He was spitting like a vrblther when he got here to call Io. I’ve never seen him that way. And Io basically had to drag him away from you to get some sleep.”

“He’s really been with me the whole time, huh? I couldn’t be sure. Rather fuzzy.”

“More or less, aside from the necessities and when he trashed his hand.”

“What?” Jaax’a put the blaster down.

“Yeah. When you first came back and Elara was going over you with a fine-toothed comb--kicked the boys out. He punched the wall, couple of times. Busted all his knuckles and broke a finger.”

Jaax’a pursed her lips and thought hard; she vaguely remembered him being there with a bandaged hand. “Men. Forget which kriffing head to think with, sometimes.”

“Don’t I know it.” Risha laughed. “His heart’s in the right place, though. Led to a few awkward staring contests between him and your brother, but I think they worked it out.”

Jaax’a had resumed cleaning her weapon. She remembered, several times, being gently woken and reassured when her nightmares had been overwhelming. He’d been there when her stomach had mutinied, more than once--not times she wanted to remember, but he’d been incredibly gentle. And then there was when he’d carried her from the galley back to bed... nauseous as she’d been, she couldn’t deny it wasn’t unpleasant.

She was just finishing the last of her polishing when they heard Bowdaar’s rumble in the hangar, followed shortly by the ship chiming and C2’s fondly irritating pleasantries as the hatch opened and they came aboard.

“You’re up!” Corso said, smiling, his voice genuinely glad. Bowdaar rumbled much the same. The pair were quite jovial; Jaax’a guessed a pitcher or possibly two of ale had something to do with it. Corso made a beeline for her, opening his arms and hugging her close, and she could feel a sense of his contentment as he breathed deep and sighed with her in his arms. Risha raised a “see what I mean?” eyebrow at Jaax’a before taking her mug to the sink to wash. _Definitely two,_ Jaax’a thought as Corso let her go. He was never so open with her in front of others except when cheerfully tipsy, as he was now.

Bowdaar’s rhythmic voice added something Jaax’a thought was akin to “get a room” and threw up his hands as he left the galley. She chuckled; Corso muttered something about oversensitive furballs and stepped back. “Are you feelin’ alright? I mean, you look a lot better, and you’re cleanin’ Sparkles and you’re standin’ here not lookin’ like you’re gonna puke, so--”

“Corso.” Jaax’a stopped his stream of conversation kindly. “I’m doin’ pretty good.”

“Good, pretty good’s good. Kriff, I think Bowdaar got us more t’drink than I thought.” He rubbed his face, momentarily distracted.

Risha had slipped away at some point, as she was wont to do, leaving Jaax’a and Corso alone in the galley. “I’m wondering about something, though.”

“Whas that?”

“Why’d you punch the wall?”

Corso concentrated for a moment. “Oh. Oh, that? Dunno. Somethin’ stupid, I s’pose.”

“Mmm... I don’t think so.”

A long moment passed. “Well, maybe not stupid,” he admitted, but more information wasn’t forthcoming. Jaax’a knew him well enough to have a decent guess, anyhow. 

In reply, she stepped forward and kissed him, gently, lips lingering. “Thanks for taking care of me, Corso.”

He nodded, several times, then fumbled a bit over his words, entirely sincere despite his awkwardness. His voice was rougher as he spoke. “Don’.... don’t tell me y’don’t need me anymore.”

“I won’t.” _Not ever._

He smiled at her and those sparkling eyes got her again. She couldn’t _not_ kiss him, not while standing this close, not while she was desperate for some good old-fashioned adrenaline instead of drugs swirling through her veins, not while this was Corso in front of her. _Corso_.

His hands slid to her back, tentatively holding her against him, cradling her like glass as his lips covered hers gently in reply, seeking, finding her pliant and soft and welcoming. She could feel him shaking, quivering as he restrained himself, thought she could sense his desire, held in check as he kissed her so softly it hurt. They broke apart, Jaax’a breathing a little harder than she should, and she found she was still leaning against him, her head spinning. _Of course it would be now that I’d get dizzy,_ she figured, though somehow she didn’t think it was entirely the effects of the concussion that had her world doing somersaults.

“You alright?” Corso murmured in her ear. His voice was deep, vibrating, and she felt safely surrounded by him, his arms still steadying her against his broad chest.

“Dizzy,” she admitted. He rumbled a little in his chest and didn’t move, entirely content to hold her. She was happy being held, she realized. It felt right, good in a way that was a little foreign. As he held her, the dizziness ebbed a little, but didn’t pass, and a headache started to trickle up the back of her neck. She sighed. “I need to lay down again.”

Corso slowly let his arms fall from their place behind her back, but caught one of her hands in his. She had to concentrate on walking to keep the dizziness at bay; he wordlessly provided a little guidance when she wavered, her steps uneven, and she found she didn’t mind leaning on his arm. In her cabin, he steadied her as she toed off her boots, then tugged the blanket up over her as she settled into bed. None of his attentions were clinging, but there was a quiet, heady intimacy to them that perhaps hinted at his real reasons for staying so close to her.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. He returned it, his eyes fond, and let his hand reach up to brush an errant lock of hair away and cup her cheek as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be alright. It’s just the leftovers from the concussion, really.”

He nodded, seeming to have an internal conflict before deciding on a simple “Sleep well, Jaax.” His hand left her cheek as he stepped away, but paused to catch her hand and squeeze it before he left the cabin, the door sliding shut behind him. 

 

It was over a week after the slavers’ capture that Jaax’a was finally approaching somewhere near normal, albeit supported with pain pills for her headaches and gritting her teeth through dizzy spells. She grudgingly let Corso pilot the speeder after nearly crashing it when her sense of up and down went sideways. They began going out on short trips, staying close to Anchorhead, returning to the _Sunsoarer_ in the evening so she could get the solid ten or twelve hours of sleep her body still demanded every night. 

Risha gave her a datapad one night detailing the terms of their meeting with their smuggling contact, Tookreek. The next morning she was ready and packed for a trip that had them sleeping rough for a few nights, and Corso was having none of it.

“Jaax, you were nearly _killed_ two weeks ago. You’re doin’ alright in here, in climate control, but out there it’s blisterin’ and we’ll be under two suns all kriffin’ day! It’s gonna be mis’rable for those of us who aren’t recoverin’ from several bloomin’ cracks to the head and I ain’t lettin’ you kill y’self fer whatever whatshisface’s got!”

His farmboy talk always did come out much stronger when he was mad.

“ _Not_ got, far as I can tell,” Jaax’a clarified coolly, packing a few more choice items. “I’ve loaded up on any meds I might need, most of which you already know how to use, and the others which I’ll show you on the way.” She zipped the bag and turned to face him; he was standing in the doorway, his expression thoroughly torqued off, decked out in plate plastoid armor, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll even let you pilot the speeder.”

“And we are _not_ going in after slavers again.” He had a gut feeling as he said it that he’d be proved wrong on that account.

“Not planning to,” she said sweetly, “but then again, you know I can’t resist a little good karma.”

Corso heaved an aggrieved sigh. “Gimme that,” he said, swiping the bag from her as she came within arm’s reach, hefting it over his shoulder. “And I reserve the right t’call yer brother if you do somethin’ _stupid_.”

The ship chimed. “Already done for ya, Riggs,” Io’s voice came from the hatch, the trooper fully armored and carrying more gear than an especially lucky Jawa toted droids. “I think we crossed the ‘stupid’ line when she started packing last night.”

Jaax’a ignored the dig at her state of mind.

They took speeders to Tookreek’s cantina, where they encountered a woman who had the agelessly young look of a Jedi; they were right, as it turned out, when the bar thugs turned nasty and ended up toast between the knight’s lightsaber and their collective blasters. Nariel Pridence, as she introduced herself, was hunting a Sith.

“Well, that’s going to make our lives easier,” Jaax’a said, dripping sarcasm, as they left the cantina with directions to Hixan’s spice warehouse to do Tookreek’s bidding. They battered their way in, finding the requested krayt dragon fang, only to be intercepted on their way out by one very dark-side-favoring, red-lightsaber-toting Vaverone Zare. _Just our luck._

“I’m looking for a small crimson box... just one curio of many in Diago’s personal collection. I need to arrange a meeting.” Zare was Imp through and through; you could hear it in her voice.

“Let’s say I do help you with this.” Jaax’a crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. Io and Elara were outside standing watch; she hoped they didn’t come in blasting.

“Whoa, Captain. You sure about this? I mean, she is a Sith.” Corso’s hand was itching to jump to his rifle.

“It’s not healthy to torque off people with lightsabers.”

“I see the percentage in that,” he muttered.

“For your assistance, you’ll receive a gift few beings ever enjoy: the pleasure of my company,” Zare said, and Jaax’a wondered if the push of nausea into her throat was real or imaginary. Corso’s eyes narrowed. _Sex with a Sith?_ It even _sounded_ slimy. “If you’d like to pretend you’re not interested... all I ask is that you arrange a meeting for me with Diago.”

“I’d rather drink a Hutt’s bathwater.” Corso tried not to laugh.

“How revolting.”

Jaax’a drew and fired; Corso swore and ducked as blaster bolts ricocheted off of the brilliant crimson lightsaber that snap-hissed into life. Zare raised her hand and Sparkles flew out of the smuggler’s hands and into the Sith’s, leaving Jaax’a bereft.

“That was fun, but unnecessary. Run along now and reconsider my offer,” Zare said, stepping forward and returning the gleaming blaster before stalking off. Jaax’a was shaking, looking at the blaster in her hands dully.

“You ever get the feelin’ we’re in over our heads?” Corso asked quietly as Jaax’a recovered her wits.

“That’s what makes this job so much fun,” she said, trying to cover herself with bravado.

“You got an interestin’ idea of fun,” he replied as they left, stepping over bodies of Geonosians. Io looked her over when they emerged from the building, and Jaax’a smiled at him, hoping to quell his worry.

That “interesting idea of fun” got real funner when their supposedly easy return of the fang and trip to the Lightspring to meet Diago was derailed by a need to defend Diago’s summer palace from the Empire. _Summer palace, my ass,_ Jaax’a thought as they sped along the sand, cursing the Nikto lieutenant who’d abandoned them to this job, taking the travel time to close her eyes and lean her head against Corso’s back. Pain was creeping into the nooks and crannies of her skull and the world was starting to swirl, just a little.

They stopped and stashed the speeders a moderate hike from the entrance to the palace and Jaax’a took a moment to down the contents of a canteen, tossing pain tabs down her throat as she did. Corso noticed and sighed. While Io busied himself reloading and checking power packs and Elara reviewed her medkits, Corso crouched in front of Jaax’a. “You alright?”

“Sun’s making my eyes ache,” she admitted.

“You’re dizzy.” It was a statement, not a question, and she frowned. Corso shook his head. “Can you shoot straight?”

“I can throw dets,” she replied tersely. _So that’s why she brought so many,_ he thought.

“Stay _behind_ me,” he said through his teeth. “So help me, if you do somethin’ t’get yourself hurt...”

She reached out and touched him, though it wasn’t the same through the layers of plastoid. “Give me some credit, Corso. I did call Io.”

“Otherwise we’d be goin’ off-planet for some r&r,” he muttered, and stood, offering her a hand up. She took it, strapping on her pack, fat with dets and medpacs.

The troopers and Corso moved more slowly than usual to accommodate her as they hiked to the firefight ahead and it rubbed Jaax’a the wrong way, despite knowing it was necessary. At the gates, her holo chirruped, and Vaverone Zare appeared again. When Jaax’a flatly declined to help the Sith, the woman resorted to insults. “How can you resist me? Your brain must be diseased, or something.” Io’s stance tensed and Jaax’a knew his eyes were narrowed behind his helmet; Corso’s hands got twitchy on his rifle. “There’s just no reasoning with some people,” she finished.

“No kidding,” Io muttered, and the doors to the summer palace opened to heavy Imperial fire.

Jaax’a hid in cover for most of the fight, angry frustration growing as she jumped out to hurl dets and hid again, unable to trust herself to even pick off outliers and take some of the weight off Corso and Io’s shoulders when they were in such close quarters. They mowed through the commandos, Jaax’a and Elara covering Io and Corso as they took a breather behind a stack of crates.

Suddenly a lightsaber ignited and they jumped. Jaax’a peeked over and saw Nariel Pridence surrounded by Imperial commandos. “Friendly,” she hissed. “The Jedi.”

Io and Corso hefted their weapons and trotted out; Corso leapt into the fray with his customary “Whoooooeee!” while Io simply leveled his cannon and fired. Jaax’a and Elara dodged from cover to cover, shooting and throwing dets. With the Jedi’s help the commandos were easily finished and the day was saved, so to speak.

Nariel was “disappointed in them” after their last conversation about mixing with criminals; this was met with rolling eyes and shaking heads. She tried to convince them to stay put instead of going to the Lightspring. “It will be a horrific battle,” she said. “You won’t want to be around. May the Force be with us all.”

“I don’t want _her_ to be around,” Jaax’a grumbled. Io sighed and shouldered his cannon.

“Jaax, stop being a gundark.”

“I swear, if you start with the name-calling--” Jaax’a sped up to hoof it after Io, dets bobbing on her belt.

“Siblings,” Corso said under his breath to Elara, who shook her head, smiling behind her helmet. The Lannens were arguing, gesturing wildly, clearly rehashing a long-standing disagreement.

“Bantha! Who’re you calling bantha?”

“You, you plastoid-plated behemoth!”

“Behemoth? Ha! You’re wily and nasty as an attack rill!”

“Nasty? Really! I’ll show you _nasty_ , trooper-boy!” Jaax’a drew Sparkles and was about to fire off a warning when she stopped as if shot, her blaster-arm jerking outwards wildly, the bolt flown far wide. Corso realized a moment later that the latter was purposeful as Jaax’a tipped forward, landing hard on her knees.

Io was ahead of her and took a moment to react; Corso was already flying towards her at a full sprint in full armor. The trooper’s analytic mind saw him and realized the man really had talent at wearing the plate and would have been a natural in Havoc, had he felt like being confined by the brass. As it was, he was grateful for the smaller man’s speed: he was able to duck and grab Jaax’a, shielding her between a rock and his plastoid-covered back, when a sandperson patrol crested the hill behind them and leveled their rifles. Io and Elara lifted their own and returned fire.

Jaax’a was shaking too hard to keep a grip on Sparkles; Corso flicked the safety and stowed her in her holster. “Gonna puke?” he asked under his breath, keeping her covered. A stray bolt pinged off his shield generator.

“No, oddly,” she bit out. The skirmish died out and Corso helped her sit back against the rock. Elara knelt beside her and ran a diagnostic scan.

“Heat exhaustion,” she said succinctly. “You really shouldn’t be out in this.”

Jaax’a opened her mouth, eyes flashing, to spit out a doubtlessly nasty remark, but shut her teeth together with an audible _clack_ instead, choosing to grimace.

“We’ll get the speeders and be back shortly,” Io said, and the troopers left. As soon as they did, Jaax’a sniffed and swiped her gloved fist across her face, jaw pulsing as she clenched it to hold back angry tears. Corso reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and she shrugged him off roughly. Despite the heat he felt a cold chill over his skin. She’d never once rejected him so flatly.

She hated herself in that moment; hated her weakness, hated hiding, hated how she had treated Corso. With Io, at least, he had withstood her lashing out in her hardest hours, and he knew how deep their affection ran. What she threw, he caught and often returned, even when it escalated to blows. Corso... he didn’t have the advantage of time. She sat against the rock, stewing, the only wall between herself and dissolving into tears the one that separated her from feeling much of anything at all.

The speeders hummed as they approached; Corso got up to take Jaax’a’s without looking at her. Io looked at him, then at his sister, and sighed, shaking his head. “Attack rill, c’mon. Climb up.”

She sighed, looking into the dirt. “I can’t.” After a long moment in which Corso just looked at her, Io swung off his own speeder and fairly tugged his sister off her feet.

“We on a timeframe?” he asked gruffly, letting her fight to get on the speeder behind Corso for approximately three seconds before just shoving her the rest of the way up.

“Not really.”

“Good. Let’s find ourselves a cool cave for a few hours.”

Elara consulted her holomap as they sped along, both troopers choosing to ignore the smugglers and their tension. An hour’s ride had them close to the Lightspring and occupying a cave that would do to let Jaax’a rest. Elara treated her while the men stood closer to the entrance of the cave. Corso was brooding silently and the silence stretched, tapped only by the little noises a cave makes as it breathes.

“She’s not an easy one,” Io said, suddenly.

“Easy what?”

“Person. Sister. Business partner, for some people,” he said. “Woman, for you. More than that, but I’m still wrapping my own head around it, so don’t push your luck.”

Corso snorted. “Yeah, well, I dunno how much _more_ is there anymore. She’s been...”

“Like I said, she’s not easy.” Io leaned back against the wall and crossed his feet at the ankles, his arms already loosely folded across his chest. “She’s been through a hell of a lot of shit, Riggs. Not my place to say--she’ll tell you about it when she’s good and ready--but it’s a hell of a lot. She’s... two different people, sometimes. Always has been. Never really managed to reconcile the two.”

There was a long pause. “How d’you do it?” Corso asked.

“Do what? Get along with her?” Corso nodded. “Well, it helps--a lot--when she’s busy venting on the scum of the galaxy. To be honest, I think you kept her from blowing her lid for rather longer than usual when she was laid up. And the rest... I just bounce it back. The name-calling, earlier? Old habit from when we were kids and... well, that’s for her to tell.” Io tapped his fingers in sequence on his armor; it rattled. “You just gotta remember that the nasty stuff... it blows over. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Sure feels like it.” Corso risked a glance over his shoulder and his gaze softened to see her dozing on the hard cave floor.

“I know. I’m the behemoth bantha, remember?” Io smiled wryly. “Corso... she’s been better. _Happy_. All her comms, the rare occasions I actually talk to her when I’m between ops--she suddenly perked up, few months back, and somehow I think it has to do with you.”

“Kriff.” Corso scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I get the feeling you’ve been burned before. Bad, if I guess right.” Io raised an eyebrow, the expression eerily identical to the one Corso so often saw on Jaax’a’s face.

“Lost my family to Seps on Ord.” Corso still couldn’t say it without spitting out the fifth word like it was poison.

“Yeah.” Io nodded slowly. “I know I sound like the advice guru, but...” He paused for a long moment; Corso nodded to him, and the trooper took a breath. “Give her time and trust. Wait for her. I know you know something about... what happened, when she got the _Sunsoarer_...”

Corso’s mouth tightened. “Yeah.” _Experienced some of those scars firsthand._

“She’s got a helluva lot of bravado and not a lot of brawn to back it up, sometimes.” Io stood and gripped Corso’s shoulder firmly. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Corso snorted. “Didn’t figure you for a matchmaker, Lannen.”

“I want my sister safe and happy, Riggs,” Io said quietly. “So far you’ve more than proven yourself man for the job. To me, anyway. Convincing her is up to you.”

The trooper left Corso standing there in the dim light of the cave, his heart thudding hard, twisting at the thought of losing her. He’d never intended for all this; _I didn’t follow her off Ord to get myself waist-deep an’ sinkin’ in love._ But he realized, despite himself, that a little part of him maybe had fallen for her the first time he’d seen her, flashing eyes, short steely hair, snarky comebacks, scars, cybernetics and all.

The urge to punch the wall tickled at his left hand again, but he contained it, reminding himself that every bone knit with kolto was a bone that would ache in the cold, and somehow he thought he’d be following her to some of the galaxy’s more exotic places. Like a snowy version of Tatooine, for example, if there was one.


	11. Tatooine: Off This Rock

Jaax’a woke to Corso sitting near her, Sparkles within his reach. That confused her until she saw Sergeant Boom half-disassembled in his lap. It would probably take him all of thirty seconds with his eyes closed to put the rifle back together, but it was still wise of him to have Sparkles nearby.

Her head felt thick and fuzzy, but the pain had eased significantly and most of the dizziness had left. Corso glanced down at her guardedly as she woke, licking her lips and trying to work the taste of kolto out of her mouth. Wordlessly he offered her a canteen; she sat up slowly and took it with a hesitant smile. _Dammit. I did something stupid, didn’t I?_

She could tell he was worried about her, but there was something stopping him from his usual routine of openness. She remembered she’d been unreasonably irritable and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Corso,” she said, voice thick. “I’m... not really feeling like myself.”

He looked at her levelly, searching her face. “That’s an understatement.” There was an edge to his voice she hadn’t really heard before. He was hurt by her hiding from him and trying to hide it himself, she guessed.

“I _am_ sorry,” she said again, quietly, and handed back the canteen. He took it with a sigh.

“Look, Jaax’a. I... I’m tryin’, but I just spent two weeks puttin’ you back t’gether, and as soon as you can, you wanna be out here again tryin’ t’get yourself killed as usual. That’s all fine an’ good, but take pity on a man.” He blew dust out of one of Boom’s chambers and began to slide and snap the rifle together again. “At least let me help, y’know?”

She didn’t think she’d heard that long a speech from him sober when he wasn’t addressing something vitally important. _Either this_ is _important or he’s decided to speak up a little. Both, hopefully._ “Where’re Io and Elara?”

“Recon.” With Boom ready to lock and load, he handed Sparkles to the smuggler and leaned back against the wall, elbows rested on his bended knees. “Sun should be easin’ up. We’ll head out when they get back.”

They sat in an uneasy silence until the troopers returned; the group shouldered packs and headed to the Lightspring, a short hike from their cave. Unseen, one Vaverone Zare languished in the darkness behind them, scathing glare enough to melt the sand into glass around her.

 

“Hello again. Forcing me to follow you through that blazing desert? Not your best move.”

Jaax’a sighed, hand resting on Sparkles’ hilt. “I hope y’got blisters all over your pale, Sithy feet.”

“I’m feeling _especially_ unsympathetic toward you.” The Sith narrowed her eyes--well, further than usual.

“Surrender is your only option, Zare. You can’t win.” Nariel Pridence was there, too. _A three-way,_ Io thought, rolling his eyes. _Jedi, Sith, smuggler. And then there’s me’n Corso. Human shields. Fan-kriffin’-tastic._

Risha chose that moment to holo-call. It went downhill from there; Diago’s idiotic orders, Zare’s attempts at ensnarement, Pridence’s attempt to engage Zare on her own. And Force-laden words? Prodding Jaax’a to kill the Jedi, then--oh, no. Oh, _hell_ no.

Jaax’a was ready to plant a bolt in Zare’s head as soon as she turned that slick Sith power on her Corso. _Wait--what?_ My _Corso?_

Diago interrupted her highly concerning speeder of thought and the smuggler shuttled it away for another time. _Kill everyone?_ Jaax’a thought as she dove behind a crate, hurling a det. _That’s useful when talking to battle droids._

The fight was short, but intense; Hixan, Tookreek, and Zare all fell, and shortly Pridence left with the Sith holocron and Jaax’a had her sensor computer. Her nap and a stim she’d snuck behind everyone’s backs had kept her up during the fight, but she was shaking with exhaustion when they were done, body threatening to give out at any moment. Corso kept a couple of strides closer to her side than usual, ready to catch her, whether he noticed he was doing it or not.

Io left no room for argument when he decided they’d stay the night in their earlier hideaway; it was roomy enough and easily defensible. Corso was all for it, given how weak Jaax’a was. He started unpacking when they arrived, pulling out the compressed bunkroll and popping the tab. It sucked in air and a thin mattress puffed out of the crinkly fabric. Jaax’a, sitting against the cave wall, pale and weak, didn’t argue when he tugged it to flat ground and gestured to it, offering her a hand up and steadying her as she wobbled to it and gratefully stretched out. It was scant protection from the rock, but something was better than anything.

“That’s handy,” Io commented as he popped open a package of ration cubes. “Got any more?”

“Just the one. Someone’s always keepin’ watch, so...” Corso pulled out a canteen and a couple of gel pouches. “Jaax’a? You should eat. Jaax?”

Steady intakes and exhales of breath replied and Corso looked over his shoulder to see her curled on her side, back to him. He shook his head at her exhaustion. “She really shouldn’t be doin’ this yet.”

“No,” Io agreed. “But that’s Captain Jaax’a for you.” He poured a thin stream of water over a bowl of cubes and watched them rehydrate, turning into vaguely chewable food substitutes instead of those that would break your teeth, then popped one into his mouth and swallowed it quickly. “Guessin’ she still won’t eat these?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl.

“Nope.” Corso held up the gel packet he’d just opened, then put the open end in his mouth and squeezed. He grimaced at the taste and looked at the packet again. “That was supposed to be nerf stew? Oh, brother. They’re just getting worse.”

Elara appeared. “It’s getting dark, sir. I don’t believe we’re in an overly dangerous area, but it would be wise to have a watch.”

“Of course. Cube?” Io offered her the bowl and Elara frowned as she selected two vaguely green ones, supposedly vegetable in nature.

“No forks again, sir?”

“Dorne, we’re in the field, and these are reconstituted ration cubes. Forks? Really?”

The medic didn’t reply as she looked at the cubes in her hand and ate them neatly, then flicked her fingers as if they had crumbs on them. Io shook his head, smiling, and tossed back more cubes, uncaring of the supposed flavors. “I’ll take first.” He handed Elara the bowl and stood, attempting to leave some of the dust on his armor behind, but rapidly giving up and going to the large rock toward the front of the cave, leaning against it.

“Did she eat?” Elara asked Corso after a few methodical moments spent eating the cubes.

“Nope. Out cold, far as I can tell.” Corso was eyeballing the bowl; Elara handed it to him and he plucked out a few cubes. “Just as bad as ration gel, but at least there’s somethin’ in your stomach, y’know?” He popped them in his mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly, aided by a swig from his canteen.

Elara nodded and they sat in silence for a long time, listening to the noises Tatooine made as it slowly spun through its rotation. The trooper wordlessly laid down and dozed off; Corso could tell she wasn’t deeply asleep, merely resting, ready to snap into readiness. Like Io, Corso was a man of action in the field, too restless to sleep until the barest hours of the morning. As the night cooled, he flicked on a portable heat source, which glowed and cast eerie shadows. He could hear Io fidget, hum to himself, talk through ancient battle history--all things to keep his mind alert.

Jaax’a stirred and sat up after several hours’ sleep just as Corso was about to relieve Io. He looked at her, silently handing her a gel packet and canteen. She smiled wearily at him. “Thanks.”

He nodded in reply. “I’m up,” he said, jerking his head towards the opening of the cave, and stood, disappearing into the dark. Shortly Io reappeared, rubbing his face and yawning. He sat where Corso had been, reached for the bowl of ration cubes where it sat near the heat source, and ate several; his stomach gurgled and he patted the armor above it.

“Can’t stand those,” Jaax’a said quietly, voice pitched low.

“Want one anyway?” her brother offered, and she grimaced before taking the two remaining green cubes and swallowing them nearly whole, water chasing them down. He shrugged and ate the rest, setting the empty bowl on top of his pack and stretching out on his back. “Night, soldier,” he said, half-asleep already, and he was into the same sort of alert doze Elara was within moments.

Jaax’a was awake, though, her naps having caught her up on sleep, and after finishing her ration gel with a sour face she laid awake, musing, listening to the sand whisper against the rock outside their shelter. This sort of questing was new to her. She’d usually stayed close to spaceports, using her ship as a home base.

The wilds of Tatooine were utterly silent and yet full of sound; sand shifting, winds winding, unknown creatures emerging from their hiding into the night, clicking armor from her three heavily-clad companions, steady breathing from the two sleeping nearby. The occasional mechanical click from the heat source. A quiet sigh from Corso, out of sight but just within hearing, shuffles as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The snick-snaps of Sergeant Boom against his back as he pulled her loose, checked the powerpack, put her away.

She had the urge to stand with him, feel his presence beside her, strong and resolute. Jaax’a eased off the thin mattress and crept out of the glow of the heat, her eyes adjusting quickly as she moved into a patch of utter darkness, then to where Corso stood, moonlight just barely reaching him. He was examining his gloves, fussing at a weakness in one seam. He tensed as he heard her movements, then glanced over his shoulder and relaxed as she appeared.

“You should be sleepin’,” he said, voice low.

“Been doing a lot of that,” she said.

“Don’ quit now,” he said.

She shook her head, smiling wryly. “You ever going to realize I’m gonna do what I please?”

“I realize it fine. Don’t mean I like it.” He looked at her briefly, then returned his senses to their job of watching the sandy sea outside. They stood together quietly for a time, listening.

“Corso?”

“Hm?”

“Sometimes I wonder... why.”

He waited for her to finish, but she didn’t continue. “Why what?”

“I don’t know. Why the galaxy does what it does, why planets spin, why alluvial dampners are so prone to breaking. Why you’re never so at home than with Boom in your hands, why I’m not happy without dets on my back and Sparkles in my belt with kolto packs ready to go. Why... why that feels so right when all that means we’re running down gangsters through back alleys together.”

The words came in a rush, not thought out but not haphazard, either. Corso looked at her again, eyes steady. After a long moment he returned his gaze to the sand. “I don’t know, Jaax,” he said, quietly enough she had to focus to hear him. “Sometimes it does feel right... but right ‘bout when I’m gettin’ comfortable with that, you seem to wanna change it.”

Jaax’a blew out her breath, quietly, almost a sigh. “I’m not... good at this, Corso.”

“I can tell.” He was guarded, more closed-off than she’d seen him.

“I... I want to be.” _For you._

“Do you?” He looked at her, swallowed, blinked. “My mind’s made up, Jaax. I just don’t know that yours is.”

His presence flared, almost overpowering, and Jaax’a’s instincts told her _run_ ; but it was those that kept getting her in trouble with Corso in the first place when she wanted anything but. _Everything_ but. It was then that fatigue chose to tug hard at her body, and she covered a yawn. It broke the moment, and Corso sighed. “You should get some sleep,” he said, softer, dark eyes gentle.

“Yeah,” she replied, wavering, indecision sticking her boots to the ground. Tentatively she stepped towards Corso, and he shifted towards her, and suddenly it was easy to reach up and kiss his cheek. “Good night, Corso.”

“Night, Jaax,” he murmured behind her as she left, tamping down the swirling sensation in his stomach.

 

Risha checked in as they were breaking camp the next morning, Elara already on watch when the sun was rising. “We’re on our way back,” Jaax’a told her sleepily over the holo, flickering in the interference generated by the planet’s twin suns. “Got the sensor computer.”

_“Oh, good,”_ Risha said. _“See you when you get here.”_ The line cut and Jaax’a yawned, stretching.

The return trip was easy; they stopped to help here and there, pitching in installing perimeter sensors and helping a Jawa, and before the last leg into Anchorhead, Io received a comm. The rest of the group waited in the shade of the vendors’ tents until Io joined them, sighing.

“We’re off t’help train some militia boys and help get water supplies to an outpost that got hit hard by pirates,” he said. “Afraid we’ve gotta split from here and head east.”

“I’d come with, but I don’t think I should be spending any more time here,” Jaax’a said.

“I agree,” Elara said. “You need to recover fully.”

Jaax’a hugged her brother, who held her tightly. “Don’t get yourself in trouble,” he said roughly against her hair. “I want to see you in one piece next time.” She nodded and turned to his companion.

“Thanks, Elara,” the smuggler told the medic.

“I would lecture you on the rest of your recovery, but I think it would fall on deaf ears,” Elara said wryly, smiling.

Corso and Io shook hands in the respectfully affectionate way that men did, gripping firmly. “Take care of her,” Io told him under his breath.

“Same t’you,” Corso said. “And I will, even though she ain’t gonna let me.”

Io laughed. “You’re right on that one.”

Once Corso had said farewell to Elara, they remounted their speeders and departed, Jaax’a and Corso north to Anchorhead, Io and Elara east to the trading post that needed their help. It was late in the afternoon when Jaax’a and Corso arrived, coughing from dust.

“Cantina?” Jaax’a half-croaked, and Corso nodded; they could both use a real meal and a cold drink after several consisting of ration gel, cubes and warm water. They fit right in in the cantina, dusty though they were, and an hour later, much improved, they headed back to the _Sunsoarer._

“Let’s get off of this rock,” Jaax’a muttered as they climbed the stairs to the hatch. Corso grunted in agreement, adding something about a shower, and shortly they were in orbit around the planet, ready to take off to their next destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know! not much Corso/Jaax'a here, but it's coming. Lots of between-mission downtime figuring themselves and each other out is on its way. :)


	12. Alderaan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Alderaan smuggler storyline. Otherwise... fun. :)
> 
> I know I am zipping through the story quests--I have far more fun with the stuff between the scenes... like what happens here. It is about Jaax'a and Corso's stolen moments, after all.

Alderaan was to be “a piece of glaze cake”, as Risha put it, though somehow Jaax’a thought not, given the current state of the bloodiest succession war on record. Delivering the antique power droid was easy enough. Corso was pretty prickly with Lenn Teraan, the recipient, though that was hardly surprising, given how the man had no reluctance when it came to trying to get Jaax’a to leave her heavily armored companion for the noble’s bed. She played along, for reasons that Corso really couldn’t put together.

“You’re the best thing I’ve seen all day, Lenn,” she purred.

“The last time a woman made me blush, I was just a boy!” he replied.

“Got news for ya, Slick,” Corso said, bristling. “You’re still just a boy.”

Jaax’a tossed him a look, but it wasn’t heated; he smirked, then sighed as the Teraans explained that the job wasn’t just a delivery, it was a smash-and-grab as well.

Lady Cedonia departed, leaving Lenn with Jaax’a and Corso. “My sister has the charisma of a killik,” he said. “You, on the other hand, are endlessly charming.”

“I hope you’re not falling for any of Slick’s nonsense,” Corso muttered.

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Corso,” she said, a corner of her mouth tilting in a smile.

“Just lookin’ out for you,” he said, his knotted stomach settling.

Lenn continued his flirtations before letting them go with a sigh. “I’ve monopolized enough of your time for now. Do take care of yourself.”

“Of course this has t’get complicated,” Corso muttered as they left House Organa. “Recovering datapads and family heirlooms? Bah.” Jaax’a smiled at him as they swung on to the speeder, heading north.

The smash-and-grab was easy. Alderaanian guards just weren’t up for the sort of expertise Jaax’a and Corso had. They returned quickly; Cedonia deciphered the datapad, recovered the hidden item inside the droid, and departed again, asking her brother, “See to our hero’s payment?” as she left.

“Nothing would please me more, dear sister,” Lenn said to her retreating back, turning to Jaax’a once again. His gaze was almost leering, she realized, just a little more polite.

“Oh, brother. Let me know when you’re done with Slick,” Corso said, sighing.

“I need you with me, Corso,” she said quietly, and his reluctance to leave turned into a resolution to stay by her side. _Always._

“Anything you want, Captain,” he replied.

Lenn sighed. “I was going to treat you to a lavish dinner, but it seems you have other plans,” he said. He handed her a datapad. “Your arranged payment--an old House Teraan recipe.”

Jaax’a and Corso headed back to the Sunsoarer, meeting Risha in the hangar. She was as delighted as Jaax’a’d ever seen her with the schematic, and not for the first time Jaax’a wondered what exactly was going on with all of this stuff.

Their next delivery, Risha informed them, was to take the head-in-a-jar to a historian named Peema Ahuff at House Alde. “Can’t wait to ditch that creepy head. I swear its eyes follow me ‘round the cargo hold,” Corso said as Jaax’a wrapped the jar and slid it into a pack, keeping it well-hidden, for obvious reasons.

As usual, things didn’t go smoothly. Skavak had struck again, delivering a counterfeit head and escaping with the one-of-a-kind payment. Skavak appeared on the holo and it rapidly became clear how he’d snuck his counterfeit under the radar of the genetic authenticator.

“What? You... you corrupted that girl!” Peema said after Skavak was done preening over his manipulating of Peema’s assistant.

_“Wasn’t that hard, trust me. She’s too pretty for life in a museum.”_

“You won’t have much use for women once me and Hewie get done with you, Skavak,” Corso rumbled. _Can’t stand how this guy uses them._

_“Still got that giant vibrosword? What are you tryin’ to compensate for, kid?”_

“Corso doesn’t have anything to prove,” Jaax’a bit out, eyes narrowing.

_“Forgive me... I didn’t know you two had gotten so close.”_

_Have we?_ Corso wondered, curious as to why Jaax’a had reacted so strongly to Skavak’s perceived insult. _Not as close as Skavak thinks, I guess. Not yet._

The holo snapped off and Peema fumed about the “grievous affront” to House Alde. _Aristocrats_ , Jaax’a thought. _Too wrapped up in themselves to think about anyone else._

Stealing a speeder, they gunned it back to the spaceport, hopefully in time to catch Skavak. While they were delayed by his mercenaries, Skavak took off, the hyperdrive aboard his freighter.

Of course, the man appeared on a holo in the hangar to gloat as more mercenaries made an appearance, surrounding them. _“Captain, say hello to Captain Dutonian and his men. He was working freelance for the houses. Now he works for me.”_

“You hired a whole army to kill just us? I’m honored.” Corso pulled Boom out of her holster.

There was a good reason Dutonian took the contract to kill them on short notice, Jaax’a reflected as she dusted off her hands, mercenary bodies on the floor. He wasn’t very good. Skavak was still on the holo, having watched the whole fight. _“Guess I’ll be deleting this holorecording,”_ he said. _“Gotta go. Have a swanky new hyperdrive to install.”_ The line closed.

Risha ran in, moments too late. “I saw what happened. I was able to track his ship to House Thul’s spaceport.”

“Easy. Let’s fire ‘er up.”

“Only problem is... it’s under Imperial control. You’ll have to sneak in on foot.”

“Why can’t anything be easy?” Jaax’a said, sighing. “Alright. Where am I going?”

“We,” Corso clarified from just behind her. She flashed him a smile over her shoulder before taking a datapad with coordinates from Risha, looking at the enclosed holomap, and setting off. It was going to be a hike, she reflected, and they were just going to have to depend on Skavak taking a while to install his swanky new hyperdrive.

They made a few stops on their way, delivering the head to Peema after all and meeting with Risha’s contact for the Imperial entry codes. The trip in was a good skirmish, full of hectic diving for cover and Corso’s whooping and hollering as he jumped into the fray, laying about with the good Sergeant. They entered the hangar to find Skavak nowhere, just a kidnapped starship mechanic working on the hyperdrive. _Finally, something going our way._

It was no trouble to hash out an agreement: hand over the Arkanian hyperdrive and the mechanic could take a shuttle offworld. Stolen tech for stolen freedom. Corso and Jaax’a left, and everyone, save Skavak, was happy.

“I’m really lookin’ forward t’some good shuteye,” Corso said as they strode through the snow on their way into the valley from the Thul spaceport.

“Don’t jinx us,” Jaax’a replied, and they shared a smile. Corso realized he’d missed her lately, despite being steadily at her side. She’d relaxed again, now that Skavak was dealt with and the hyperdrive in the pack on Corso’s back, and the woman who was sneaking in to his guarded heart was making her appearance.

 _She’s not easy_ , he remembered Io telling him on Tatooine. _Wait for her._

He supposed he was getting pretty good at it.

It was quickly growing dark, and between killiks and manka cats making up the vicious local wildlife and unfriendly mercenaries and warring houses perfectly happy to shoot first and ask questions later, they searched out a place to spend the night. Corso sighed. His most recent broken bones had been achier than he’d thought they’d be in the cold mountains, and a night on cold, hard ground wasn’t appealing. A little rocky alcove provided a handy place to stay the night; a local flutterplume occupying it screeched at them, but left after being shooed. Jaax’a set down her pack. “Water nearby, I think,” she said. “Should fill our canteens.”

Corso nodded. “You want me to go?”

“I’ll be okay.” She took his offered canteen and left, heading west.

Corso had shucked the less comfortable parts of his armor, pulled their camping items out of the pack, and set about figuring out what rations to eat when he realized Jaax’a should have been back already. He tapped his wrist-comm. “Jaax?”

No answer. He sighed and shouldered Sergeant Boom, taking to the snow again to follow her footprints. He could hear the trickle-splash of the stream; water wasn’t far away. _What could be taking her so long?_

He spotted the spring and movement near it; a humanoid shape stood at it in the creeping dusk. He tensed, reaching for his rifle, until he heard Jaax’a’s distinct voice humming to herself. The pittering of his heart eased until he spotted the pile of clothing by the stream and the faint outline of a gleaming blaster on top.

 _That_ was what was taking her so long. He swallowed hard, his blood pressure rising, as she stretched her arms above her head in the twilight. From this angle, he just saw the curve of her breast sway slightly, peaked at the tip with cold. _It’s_ freezing, he thought. _How th’blazes is she_ bathin’ _right now?_

He heard crunching behind him and spun, drawing the Sergeant smoothly, leveling the barrel and aiming. He heard a splash behind him and a blaster pistol pinged with deadly accuracy despite the dark, just as his rifle did; the stray killik, hit with two bolts of light, toppled, and Corso turned, slowly, to see his captain in the spring, Sparkles in her hand, the exchange of sun and moonlight against her back casting her nakedness in stark relief, the water lapping at her calves.

“Don’t get too distracted, now, Riggs,” she said, voice low and flirting, and set the blaster down as she sank back into the shadowed water. “Guess you gotta stand watch while a girl washes up, huh?”

Corso gulped and turned his back, gripping Sergeant Boom-Boom and feeling the sudden need to grip the barrel of something a little more... personal.

 

Bathing in this weather had proved to be one of her less intelligent ideas.

She’d gotten killik slime-blood on her, though, and it had soaked through and to her skin, making it itch; a soak in the cold water was just the thing for it, easing the throbbing of the irritated skin, but she wished now she had just spot-cleaned instead of diving in. She was cold despite their portable heat source and the reflective blanket that covered her.

“You alright?” Corso asked from the other side of the heat lamp where he sat, keeping watch.

“F-freezing,” she muttered.

“Figured,” he said. “Little cold to go skinny-dippin’.”

She snorted in reply, rolling to turn her back to him, and he chuckled. She heard him rise, his armor clinking, then heard the louder noises of him unsnapping pieces. A few moments later he crouched beside her. “C’mere.”

Jaax’a looked up at him. He’d only been wearing a few pieces of plastoid while on watch, and he’d removed the pieces covering the fronts of his thighs and shed the vest that held the chest and back plates altogether. He laid down and tugged the reflective blanket so it covered both of them; she moved to the edge of the inflated ground pad and he edged on, laying on his side behind her, Sergeant Boom in easy reach. It wasn’t roomy, but within minutes Jaax’a felt warmer, tucked between his broad body and the heat lamp, his higher body temperature rapidly turning the space under the blanket into a tiny furnace, and she sighed.

“Better?” he murmured, and he felt her nod against the bump in the air mat that passed for a pillow. She began to relax, warmth persuading her tense muscles to ease, and soon they were lying flush together, the gap between them gone. He was steady and warm against her back, breathing deep and reassuring. As sleep took her she became pliant, trusting him to protect her, to keep watch over them both. She _would_ let him take care of her, he realized; she just was loathe to admit it. _Typical_ , he thought fondly as her breathing evened out, and he resisted the urge to rest his lips against the crook of her neck and shoulder, knowing his nose was cold and would probably wake her.

The night grew colder and he was glad of their arrangement as the heavy dew froze and turned into a tiny sprinkling of snow, which melted and trickled away under the combined efforts of Corso’s warmth and their heat lamp. He was surprised he was able to stay awake, as oddly comfortable as this was while perched on the edge of the mat, and only dozed when she stirred, murmuring something about it being her turn to watch.


	13. Alderaan and Tatooine: New Friends, Old Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, OK, it gets E here. No avoiding it. Sorry... not. ;)

They had just left camp in the morning light when Jaax’a’s holocomm chirped and Cedonia Teraan appeared. Lenn stepped in to the viewer and explained their plight: the best marksman on Alderaan, coming to kill him under the time-honored code of a duel. _Seems more like outright murder to me._

A borrowed thranta had Jaax’a and Corso back at House Organa just in time to interrupt the sanctioned killing and be insulted for it. “If you think the prospect of killing a woman bothers me, Teraan, think again. She is, after all, not a _lady_.” Jaax’a decided on the spot that had Xin been a Force user, he’d be the nastiest kind of Sith lord around.

“Nice robes, pal. Sew them yourself?” Corso asked.

“Inform your simple-minded servant that he should not speak. I have no compunction about killing your ‘second’ first.”

“Your fight’s with me, Xin. And... I think your robes look stupid, too.”

Corso laughed. “He looks like rancor droppings wrapped in shimmersilk!”

“You must be the vermin who invaded my family’s home and stole our property,” Xin said, eyes cold. “How nice that you’ve saved me the trouble of hunting you down and executing you.”

“I do pride myself on convenience,” Jaax’a said silkily, smirking, caressing Sparkles’s grip.

“I pride myself on killing,” Xin replied, and drew his blaster.

Jaax’a was faster, planting Sparkles’ spitfire between his eyes, and Corso’s bolt to the chest ensured he’d never rise. “Good riddance,” he muttered, sliding his rifle back over his shoulder to where it resided. With that and the Teraan’s thanks, they left Alderaan behind.

In the cargo hold, Risha took the hyperdrive from Corso, smiling as she murmured to herself about the device. Skavak chose that moment to holocall and it was Jaax’a’s turn to gloat; then, when that connection cut, Risha’s holo chimed again. An unfamiliar face filled the blue glow and, rapid-fire, stumbled through a speech that left Risha showing an unusual level of emotion.

“Stay on the frequency, Juran,” she told the alien on her holo, and flicked it off. “We’ve got to go to Tatooine,” she said, turning to Jaax’a. “My friends are in danger.”

“Better have a plan,” the captain said. “I’ll get us on our way.” Risha nodded, turning back to her console, muttering to herself as she brought up holoplans, studying the screen.

“I’ll get back to you once I have one,” she said, distracted, and Jaax’a left the cargo hold. Corso tagged along behind her, clinking gently. It didn’t take long for them to get the ship thrumming readily, eager for the emptiness of space.

Once into hyperspace, Corso turned to Jaax’a. “Want me to clean Sparkles for you? I’ve gotta take care of Boom.”

She slid the blaster out of its holster and handed it over, grip first. “Thanks, Corso.”

He turned the shining blaster over in his hands and smiled at it fondly, wandering off towards his workbench and leaving Jaax’a alone to the stars as they streaked past.

 

It would be several hours to Tatooine, far out in the outer rim as it was, and Corso set both blasters on the workbench in the crew cabin he had largely to himself. Bowdaar felt cramped in the space, he knew, and only really was in it to sleep, leaving Corso to enjoy the relative comforts alone on the rare days he spent inside it. He checked his chrono; it was early still, by ship’s time, and an idea popped into his head. He moved to the door panel and palmed it closed, entering a lock code.

He shed his armor, stacking the plates by his bunk, and eased out of the snug clothes beneath. His skin was happier with the chance to breathe again, and he laid on his bunk, stretched out in contentment. As he relaxed, he let the images he’d been tucking away loose in his mind, and was unsurprised when his vision of his captain, nude in the dark, appeared first.

It was the work of a moment to shuck his shorts and lean back again, sprawling naked, and breathe deep; the tightness of arousal in his lower belly spiraled to include his groin, and he tingled, his head fizzing slightly as his blood rerouted. Almost idly he ran his fingers over himself as his cock grew and throbbed, feeling the clammy skin that had been tucked away for far too long, sensation spilling like electricity from his fingertips.

He sighed as his mind caressed the image it saw, Jaax’a’s naked silhouette in the moonlight, taut and hard with muscle and cold, curved top and bottom, small waist tucked in tight and firm, flaring to hips he always wanted to rest his hands on. He remembered how the curve of her breast had filled his hand, imagined how the soft skin would feel, taste... how _she_  would taste, at her core, hidden deep between her legs; would it be sweet, feminine, or heady and ripe and womanly?

The latter, he decided, his hand stroking firmly, twisting gently as it crested, and his breath came faster. There was no denying she was all woman, hard and soft at once, a flash of steel and a twist of lace. He held back a groan, low in his throat, as he drew forth one of the well-used mental holos of them kissing, remembered feeling her lips alternately rough and pliant beneath his, her body tight against his, her scent filling his lungs as his need pulled hard at him.

It was with that filling his mind that he came, pulsing hard against his fist, gritting his teeth against the shouted name that clawed at his throat, suffocating, eventually emerging as a whispered groan as he relaxed, quivering, sated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, my dears, I have to actually finish the next bit that bridges this to the next pre-written section, which has been lurking in various forms since, oh, chapter 3.


	14. Tatooine, Nar Shaddaa, and Nok Drayen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Yes, the bridge between is complete... and now we have quite a bit of idle time for Corso and Jaax'a to fill, hm? Patience, my grasshoppers. One chapter at a time. :)

They had just slipped gently into orbit around Tatooine when Risha gathered them at the main holocomm in the Sunsoarer’s hold. “I found the plans where she’s being held, Juran,” Risha said to her childhood friend. “There’s a back way in. Czerka was lazy when they abandoned the complex; they didn’t seal the ore processing chute.”

“What’s to keep them from killing Audila?” the frantic alien asked, wringing his hands.

“I’ll distract them by surrendering myself while Jaax’a sneaks in.” Risha’s voice was calm, authoritative. “You stay out of this. Just be there for her when we’re done.”

“I don’t like this. Using women for bait--what kind of man allows that?” Corso was leaning casually against a stack of crates, but his eyes were dark. Never could resist a damsel in distress.

Jaax’a hid a smile. He wasn’t ever going to change. “You’re with me, Corso,” she said, and he nodded. She headed for the bridge, guiding the Sunsoarer down to an Anchorhead hangar bay, and shortly the group was speeding across the Tatooine sand to the rescue.

As they approached, Jaax’a went wide around the former mine, hiding behind the crests of dunes. She cut the speeder engine and guided it to a stop behind a large rock, then poked her head up and looked around.

“I’m not taking chances with Risha and her friend inside,” she said quietly to Corso. “We’re stealthing it.” He nodded and she flicked on the stealth generator at her waist, heading to the open ore chute in the rocky hill above them. They climbed up and in and halted, seeing sandpeople milling below.

“Damn,” she whispered. “Ready?”

“Runnin’ in blastin’,” he replied; she nodded and he launched off the rocky outcropping, landing amid a group of the natives, and began laying about with the good Sergeant. Jaax’a threw a det and Sparkles pinged with deadly accuracy. Shortly, the group was down, and Corso turned to help Jaax’a down the rocks. She knit her eyebrows and looked pointedly at his outstretched hand, but he just smiled at her, eyes sparkling, and she accepted it with a sigh.

“Don’t need help, y’know,” she said.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t offer,” he said, holding her hand for a long moment after her boots were firmly on the ground beside him, his eyes lingering on hers. She smiled.

“Let’s go.”

“Right behind you, Jaax,” he said, and she flicked on the generator again, shrouding them both in secrecy as they wound through the mine. He was glad for the stealth; there were an awful lotta sandpeople in here.

From time to time they had to take out a group--no way around them--and they worked in synchrony, firing, throwing dets, Corso’s EMP blast deadly effective. Soon they heard a girl's voice ahead, arguing, pleading, then light footsteps.

"You're the simple girl who caused His Majesty so many sleepless nights," a man's voice said.

"There's nothing simple about me," Risha replied, venomous.

"Then I'll see to it that your torture and execution are as complex as possible," he replied, just as deadly.

"Risha, what are you doing here?" The voice was nervous, trembling.

"Let her go," Risha said, voice calm, "and you can do whatever you want with me."

Corso tensed, straining against the need to wait, and Jaax'a put a hand to his upper arm.

"Unfortunately for your Togruta friend, I'm to leave no witnesses," the man said. "Besides. This planet offers little else in the way of entertainment."

"You really need to find a full-time job," Jaax'a drawled, hand to her hip just above her blaster, ambling out of the shadows.

"You were instructed to come alone, Risha," the assassin said, turning to Jaax'a. "I don't know how this fool slipped past our perimeter, but she won't save you."

"This fool is the best shot in the galaxy," Risha said, smooth as butter. "How good are you?"

"I swore to my liege you would die here," he said, ignoring her bait. "And I keep my oaths."

"Sorry, pal. You made a promise you just can't keep." Jaax'a drew and fired in one smooth movement, then dropped behind cover; Corso soared out of the shadows to land among the other assassins, laying about with Sergeant Boom.

 

"Allow me to introduce my father, Nok Drayen."

"Why were you in carbonite for ten years?" Jaax'a asked, eyebrow raised.

"It allowed me to cheat death, if for a little while. Ten years ago one of my lieutenants infected me with a disease," Nok said. "It's deadly, incurable, and eating me alive. I've done everything to stop it but it's never been enough."

"I may have lied about my father, Captain, but I didn't lie about his fortune," Risha said. "And now you have the only starship in the galaxy equipped to get it."

"There is a region beyond the Outer Rim called the Long Shadow," Nok told them. "There are no stars, no lights, no life. Just a derelict starship, drifting into a massive black hole. My fortune waits for you--there."

 

Moving through Nok Drayen's starhip wasn't impossible. Between the two of them, the guardian droids went down, if with some difficulty. Corso was breathing heavily in the thin air of the ship; they took a breather in a quiet corner and Jaax'a offered him a stim. When he nodded, she slid her fingers under the neck of his bodyglove and pulled it away far enough to get the hypospray to his skin. She did the same to herself, then stood and slid her blaster free, spinning it in her hand, restless.

"In and out, Riggs," she said, mind firmly on their mission. "We don't know how much time we got before this thing goes boom."

"Right behind you."

In the end it was a little underwhelming. Royal executioner droids defeated, they took Nok Drayen's--well, Risha's--reliquary and hoofed it, sprinting and dodging through the shuddering ship as it sounded alarm after alarm.

Then they found Skavak pointing a blaster at them from the top of the Sunsoarer's ramp.

"Heya, Captain. Bet you're surprised to see me."

"How the blazes did you get here?"

"Stowed away on your ship back on Nar Shaddaa." He was uncomfortably smug, even snarkier than usual. "Funny thing about Wookiees is they've got great big lungs. Only takes a coupla breaths of happy gas to knock one out."

"Skavak, I want my blaster back. I want my Torchy."

"You've a real single-minded devotion to your weapons, kid. Gonna get you killed." Skavak looked at Jaax'a. "Bottom line? There's nothing you have that I can't steal."

"Don't push your luck."

Jaax'a felt the familiar tingle in her spine again, the one that told her to be on high alert, and regardless she wasn't surprised when he lifted his blaster. Corso, already tensed and ready to leap, turned downright predatory in a way she'd never seen him. She wanted to snarl, to jump on the man who'd stolen her ship and threatened her livelihood and shred him and leave him to die in the aching emptiness of space while the ship shook itself apart. She restrained herself, however, and ducked and rolled behind a crate when Skavak fired. Long moments later, he was sprawled on the floor of the cargo bay, looking for all the galaxy like he was asleep, aside from the fact that he sported several blaster burns to the chest, one to the forehead, and had a decent dent in his skull.

Corso, disgusted, stomped back aboard the Sunsoarer. "I'll get the preflights going, Jaax."

She was about to follow him, then spotted another blaster on Skavak's hip, unused, how it had a side-mounted rangefinder, and she crouched and carefully slid it out. She knew immediately as she held it that this was Corso's beloved Torchy. She checked the safety and followed Corso up the ramp, tucking the blaster in her belt.

Later, as they cruised through space towards Nar Shaddaa once more, Corso asked her, nervously, "Captain, I've, ah, been meanin' t'ask... Did you happen to... when you fought Skavak..."

Jaax'a smiled, letting it spread slowly across her face, and slid the blaster out of her belt, setting it on the counter. "She's all yours, Corso. Use her in good health."

The brightness of his grin was unmistakeable; he fairly bloomed with happiness. "Torchy! It's good to have you back, girl! I'm not letting another man touch you, ever again."

Bowdaar rumbled with laughter and Jaax'a chuckled at Corso's enthusiasm for his blaster; he scooped her up and disappeared, saying something about how a good cleanin' and polishin' would undo all the dirty work, and Jaax'a sighed in contentment. Finally, done with all this nonsense.

When they landed on Nar Shaddaa, there was only bad news for Risha about her father; the disease had reached his heart. "There's nothing I can do," the doctor said.

"I wasn't using it, anyway. Besides, our Captain has returned. Please, give me the reliquary. I want to see its treasures before I die."

"The treasure is all yours, Captain," Risha said as Nok opened the container.

"With one exception. Take the crown, Risha. Take back your birthright and restore the Drayens to the throne of Dubrillion."

"When you rule a world, Risha, you have to do questionable things, Risha. This is my final lesson to you. In the grand scheme of things, one spacer is meaningless. Keep the reliquary and its wealth. Kill them."

"Father, no. The captain is a good woman. She's my friend."

"You... useless child... spent too many years without my guidance..." Nok was gasping for breath, his chest heaving fruitlessly. "You're weak... powerless... everything I've done... The blood I've spilled, for nothing... this is not... how it was supposed to end..." He collapsed, his hands falling from his closed throat.

"His vital signs have ceased," said the doctor. "I am sorry."

"Dispose of my father's body as he instructed, Doctor Chelah," Risha said, emotionless. "You are released from my family's service." She stood silently for a long time before turning to Jaax'a and Corso. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now. Everyone I've ever met from Dubrillion has tried to kill me. I'm supposed to take over a whole planet with just a crown. But you're a wealthy woman, Captain. Merchants will be killing each other to buy what you're selling."

"Figured you'd be stickin' around, Risha. You're like a mynock, that way," Corso said, but he was smiling.

 

Jaax’a didn’t know what to think about Risha and the whole princess thing. The woman had moved from her hideout in the cargo hold and tended to lurk in the engine room, for what reasons Jaax’a couldn’t fathom aside from the woman’s affinity for engines (admittedly, she did know her way around one), but aside from that, she hadn’t really changed. For which Jaax’a was grateful.

She’d declared they’d all take a break before tackling the next galactic mini-crisis. Heated discussion had broken out over where to spend a few days. In the end, they’d just stayed on Nar Shaddaa; they’d snagged a decent hangar and Risha could get them in to any club or cantina they wanted. Bowdaar was less than thrilled, and Jaax'a wasn't, either, but their alternatives were a little slim.

“Hey, Risha,” Corso asked his crewmate one afternoon as the redhead emerged after a late night, yawning. “You know Nar Shad better than me.”

“Not kidding there,” she muttered, making a beeline for the kaff.

“I... want to take Jaax somewhere. Nice.”

“How nice are we talking, Corso?”

“Not ridiculous, but... nice.”

Risha nodded, mulled it over as she finished making a cup of kaff and sipped. “I’ll call some people. When?”

“Tonight? Dinner?”

She yawned again. “Alright. I’ll let you know. Better have something else to wear, though.” She glanced pointedly at his garb, which was once recognizable as blaster oil-smeared loungewear.

Corso blinked, then swore. “My last nice shirt’s bandages now.”

A grin crossed Risha’s face. “Good thing we’re on Nar Shad, huh? C’mon, Riggsy. Let me take you shopping.”

“Not on your life. You’ll have me in somethin’ Darmas’d wear.”

“I don’t have to make holocalls for you, you know.”

Corso sighed. “Fine. A shirt.”

“Pants, too.”

“No.”

"Pants."

"I already have pants."

“Deal--if you go put them on so I can approve.”

Corso got up from the table and disappeared into the crew cabin, the door sliding shut. Drawers sliding open and thumping closed ensued, followed by muffled swearing. He emerged again, holding a pair of formerly decent pants that were permanently marked by--what else?--blaster oil. And quite possibly kaff.

“New pants it is,” Risha said, grinning wickedly. “Oh, you are makin’ me a happy girl today, Riggs!”

“Sounds like I’m missin’ somethin’ good,” Jaax’a drawled as she came aboard, full pack slung over her shoulder.

“Don’t go anywhere, Riggs!” Risha shouted as she zipped off into the shared cabin, then into the ‘fresher.

Corso sighed and sat down again, resigned. “What’ve I done?” Jaax’a raised an eyebrow in silent question. “She’s takin’ me _shoppin_ ’.”

Jaax’a laughed all the way to her cabin.


	15. A Proper Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All fluff. :)

As it turned out, shopping with Risha wasn’t so bad, Corso reflected, as long as y'didn’t try to interrupt the frenzy of movement and just tried on everything without complaint. Midway into their third store, Risha’s comm beeped, and she glanced at the message.

“1900 at The Twisted Table,” she told him. “A friend of mine’s the chef. Nothing too alien, I promise.”

“Thanks, Risha,” he said.

“Hey, I’m having a blast,” she said, pulling a dark green shirt off a rack, holding the fabric to the light. There was a slight pattern to the fabric that made it infinitely more interesting than a plain shirt, and Risha held it up to Corso, eyes critically evaluating the approximate fit through the shoulders and the color against his skin. “Yes,” she said. “Perfect! Go, try it.”

“I dunno, Risha. I mean... isn’t it a little... dull? You’ve been tellin' me t'stay away from dull all day.”

“No, no. You’ll see what I mean when you put it on.” She swiped the shopping bags from him and sent him reeling towards the dressing rooms. He tugged his plain t-shirt over his head and unbuttoned the green shirt, noticing that the fabric under his roughened fingers was still soft. Even he could feel the quality of the sleek linen.

He pulled it on, pausing to straighten the cuffs once it was over his shoulders, and began buttoning, leaving the top undone. He turned to face the mirror and stopped.

It was perfect, he reflected, glancing at it and looking for his newly-redefined concept of fit. He could stretch his arms forward and back, but the shirt stayed put over his shoulders, not stretching too tight over his toned chest but not loose, either. The collar was tunic-style, not folded, and with the top button undone it still looked neat and sharp. Tucked in... yes, this was the shirt.

“Riggs, you die on me or something?”

He opened the dressing room door and Risha’s eyebrows lifted. “Hoo, boy, Riggsy. You’re gonna send her for a loop in that.”

“You think so?”

“Indeed,” a male voice said from behind the shop’s counter. He left and came towards Corso. He was impeccably dressed, rich colors a little flamboyant against his dark skin, but clearly in command of his exterior appearance; he spoke in oddly cadenced Basic, clearly a recently learned language. “Turn so I see the back.”

Corso did so, feeling very odd, all of a sudden, and he felt the shop owner’s hands tug gently at the fabric across his shoulders and at the hem. “Excellent fit, sir. You looking for something to impress, this what I have for you. A man in such, how you say, muscle condition--you hard to fit without tailoring. This is new fabric I am trying; has stretch without losing fine qualities of good linen.”

“Do you have other colors?” Risha asked, and drifted back towards the rack.

“For him, hmm. Navy? No red.” The man quickly located a deep blue version of the shirt and held it to Corso’s neck, eyeing him critically; Risha nodded as he spoke. “Yes, navy.”

“We’ll take both,” Risha said, and shooed Corso to change out of the green shirt. Returning to the counter, he saw Risha and the shop owner chatting gaily. The man paused to take the shirt from Corso, scanning the tag on it and removing it. Corso cringed at the numbers as they flashed across the screen and reached for his credit stick, but Risha’s appeared on the desk and the owner swiped it instead. “Fifteen percent off for you, Risha my friend,” he said, smiling. “And her friend.”

“Corso,” she said, pocketing the stick again as he returned it.

“Corso, who will impress his lady tonight,” he said, white teeth flashing as he chuckled. “I guarantee. Corso, you are wise to shop with Risha.”

Corso shook his head and chuckled. “Well, we’ll see. I certainly spent more credits’n I meant to.” He lifted the shopping bags he already carried.

The shop owner grinned. “Yes, but Risha knows what she buys... and Risha has many friends.”

“Thank you, Domen,” she said, laughing. “I’ll come visit you again before I leave. Corso has a hot date tonight.”

“Yes! Remember my guarantee,” Domen said, winking at Corso, and turned to greet another customer. Corso followed Risha out, carrying his bags, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

 

Jaax’a smiled at Corso and Risha as they came back aboard, curious as to what was in the bags he carried. She merely said hello, though, and he disappeared into the crew quarters to put his purchases away.

A few minutes later he emerged, looking nervous. “Uh, Jaax?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her datapad. He noted she hadn’t looked so relaxed in weeks and was glad, trying to ease his own tension a little.

“I... was wondering if you had thought about dinner.”

“Not really. Figured I’d find someplace with the the least irritating music, play some sabaac, the usual. Why?”

“Would you...” He paused, trying to fight the rush of heat to his face. “That is, do you want to eat with me? I’ve got a place in mind, and...” She smiled, and he continued, encouraged. “I’d like it if we went. T’gether. Just us.”

Her smile spread and her eyes glittered like they always did when she was happy about something. As usual, it made his chest tighten a little to know that he made it happen. “I’d love to.”

“I got reservations at 1900, is that enough time?”

“What’s the dress code?”

“Um... nice?” Kriff, I know there’s fancy words for that, but I dunno what they are. “I don’t need a coat, if that helps?”

She smiled. “It does. I’ll be ready by 1830.”

Corso’s heart, pattering hard in his chest, eased. “Great. I’m... really lookin’ forward t’this.”

“Me too,” she said, voice soft, and after a long moment she returned to her reading. Corso, only slightly giddy, left her to it, heading down the hallway almost aimlessly.

Risha poked her head out of the cargo hold. “You ask her?”

“Yup.”

“Going by the ridiculous grin on your face, I take it you’re having dinner.”

“Yup.”

“It’s already after 1600. Don’t get too distracted,” she said, and Corso reached up to rub his cheek; it was prickly, and he wanted to be as well-groomed as possible.

“Thanks, Rish,” he said. “For all of this.”

“Knock ‘em dead,” she said, disappearing back into the hold, and Corso headed for the crew cabin, gathering clothes, shaving kit and towel. He preferred the close shave of a real blade instead of a vibroshaver for times like this.

Flicking the shower setting to real water instead of sonic spray, he shucked off his clothes and stepped in, the water peppering his skin. He was already tamping down a current of anxiety. He had so many ideas of how he wanted this night to go, he wasn’t sure which one seemed right. Most of them, though, involved endings that sent blood swirling away from his brain and somewhere else entirely.

_Might as well,_ he thought, his right hand sliding down over the flat muscle of his belly. _He’ll be clean, that’s for sure._

His breath came a little faster as he tugged at the loose skin, his dick rapidly thickening and filling to rigidity, heavy in his hand. Images flitted across his closed eyelids, some he’d seen, many imagined, nearly all of them of Jaax’a. He paused for a moment, lathering his hands with a bit of soap, and returned to his task, massaging thoroughly, running his soapy fingers through the curly hair that dusted his groin and between his legs, one hand rhythmically cresting over the sensitive crown of his pulsing length. He didn’t resist the sensations in his body, and his climax came sharply and quickly, leaving him leaning against the shower wall, sucking in air as the water continued to sluice over his tanned skin in tiny rivers, soothing his sparking nerves.

Wobbly-kneed he rinsed the soap from his body, splashed water from his cupped hands against the shower wall to erase any evidence, and turned off the shower, squeezing water out of his dreads. He reached for his towel and dried off, being careful just below his hips, and wrapped the towel around his waist, moving to the sink. Flipping open his shaving kit he rubbed cream over his jaw and cheeks, rinsed his hands, and began steadily running the blade along his skin, remembering, as he often did, when his father had taught him how to use it.

_“‘Fore y’start cheatin’ with a vibroshaver, boy, y’learn to shave w’this,”_ he’d said, accent heavy. _“Nothin’ll give you a closer shave.”_

Young Corso had watched intently as his father had showed him, with measured, practiced strokes, to guide the blade along his skin just so, to flick the buildup of shaving cream into the sink, to rinse the blade and begin again. He remembered his clumsy hands handling the razor, his father’s fingers steadying them on the warm handle.

_“Aye, that’s it, son. Easy does it.”_

Corso rinsed the blade in the sink, half of his face clean of shaving cream and scruff, and looked at the job in the mirror. “Don’t let me screw this up tonight, Pops,” he whispered, and began to shave the other side, gliding the metal across his skin, flicking the excess shaving cream into the sink. “I know she’s not the nice Mantell girl you'd want, but... you’d like her. Her spirit.” He turned his head to expose a tricky patch under his jaw. “I’m so sorry you aren’t here to meet her.”

He paused as he grit his teeth, locking back the sea of emotions that always threatened when he thought of his family, his inability to save them. He finished his shave, running his fingers gently over his skin to feel for any rough patches, then bent over the sink and splashed water on his face, rinsing it clean. He patted his skin dry with a towel and smoothed lotion over it, easing the tightness of newly shaved skin, and began to dress.

 

Jaax’a found herself staring at her closet. There wasn’t much in it besides her usual garb, but she did have a few nice things. The question was what sensibilities--or lack thereof--she wanted to appeal to.

The black was nice, she reflected, feeling the fabric, but entirely backless, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to shock Corso quite that much, yet. She passed over two others before her fingers set upon the gently shimmering, silken fabric of the deep blue-grey dress she’d worn only once. She brought it out, hanger dangling from her fingers, and sighed.

It was beautiful. Gorgeous. She felt heavenly in it. But somehow she felt she didn’t deserve it. It was floor-length, one side slit to mid-thigh, with a soft, layered neckline. Not too revealing, but revealing enough. In a word, perfect. Too perfect?

A tap came at her door. “Hey, Jaax’a. Question for you.”

“Come in, Rish,” Jaax’a called, and the door slid open.

“That’s beautiful,” the woman commented, nodding to the dress.

“I know. I just... don’t know. Too much?”

“For tonight? No.”

“What’s up?”

“Just wondering if I can retune the dampners. Hands are gettin’ itchy.”

“Thanks for asking. Feel free, if they need it.” Jaax’a was distracted by the dress, still unconvinced.

“Put it on,” Risha said. “I’ll give you my esteemed opinion.”

Jaax’a sighed and disappeared into her ‘fresher. Minutes later the door opened again, Jaax’a fussing at how the cloth draped over her thighs. Risha’s eyebrows lifted.

“Jaax, I think you might be the only one who could pull that dress off and not look like you’re trying too hard.”

“You think so?”

“Know so. Royalty, remember?” Risha crouched in front of Jaax’a’s closet and looked through her shoes. She pulled out a pair of delicate silver sandals. “Wear it with these.”

“I feel so... weird with my toes out.” She wiggled them, tucked inside socks though they were.

“So paint ‘em. C’mon, I’ll help you. It’ll be fun!”

“Did Corso enlist you to do this or something?” Jaax’a grumbled good-naturedly. “Let me shower, first.”

“I’ll be back, then.” Risha sashayed out the door, leaving Jaax’a to her own devices. The smuggler sighed and slipped out of the dress, hanging it again, and headed for the shower. Once clean, she toweled her hair slowly while standing in front of the mirror, looking at her body critically. _I’m not magazine fodder_ , she mused, looking at her trim, athletic frame, _but not too shabby, either._

She’d tugged on appropriate undergarments and was putting her robe on when Risha knocked. “Come in,” she called.

The woman opened the door, carrying a small bag, and unzipped it on Jaax’a’s desk. “Time to get moving,” she said cheerily. “Corso’s ready and pacing like an upset astromech.”

“What time is it?” Jaax’a asked, suddenly worried.

“Not even 1800. Poor guy’s nervous. I told him to calm down. He looked at me like I had two heads.” She chuckled. “Now, let’s get to work!”

“Don’t go overboard, Risha,” she said, eyeing the contents of the cosmetics bag.

“Nope,” she said, ignoring Jaax’a’s concern altogether. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jaax’a shook her head and let Risha work.

 

It was 1823 and Corso was wondering if Jaax’a was having second thoughts. Hell, he was wondering if he had second thoughts. He’d never felt this anxious about... well, just about anything, he didn’t think.

He convinced himself to take a deep breath, to stop pacing, hoping he wasn’t sweating through his shirt. Or the odorblock. _Should I put on more?_ He considered the cologne he’d put on, just able to pick the scent out, hoping it wouldn’t make her sneeze. He didn’t think so, he’d barely used any, but...

His frantic thoughts were interrupted when he heard footsteps down the hall and suddenly they floated away, inconsequential, because she was the most beautiful, amazing thing he’d ever seen in his _life_ and stars but all he wanted to do was look. She smiled shyly and he didn’t miss the glance over his body, her eyes taking in the forest green shirt tucked in to fitted, pressed tan pants, Sergeant Boom nowhere to be seen, just a small blaster in a subtle dark brown holster on his belt and a folding vibroblade clipped to the inside of his pocket. He had no doubt she was armed, too, though he had no idea how or where because _that dress_ , clinging, draping deep blue-grey silk, left no room for imagining even though it covered plenty.

“Jaax,” he said, quietly, unable to not say anything but not able to say anything more than her name.

Her smile spread a little more and he stepped towards her, his hand extending, and she took it as he got to her, a wide navy scarf draped over her other forearm. He couldn’t remember what those were really called but he knew she’d put it around her shoulders when she got cold. _Wrap_ , his unhelpful brain supplied, eventually.

“You ready to go, Corso?” she said, her voice a little hesitant.

He didn’t really answer her question. “You look... amazing,” he said instead, voice a little reverent. “Beautiful.”

Her eyes glittered. “I... thank you, Corso. You look pretty smart, yourself.”

He grinned in return, unable to hide his giddiness anymore.

“Get outta here, lovebirds,” Risha hollered. “You’re gonna be late!”

“Shut up, princess,” Jaax’a replied and they left, nearly floating down the stairs to the hangar, C2 bidding them farewell and for once he didn’t even seem annoying.

It was pleasant outside, but cool in the open-air taxi as they made their way to the restaurant; Jaax’a slid the wrap around her shoulders and Corso held it there with his arm, tucking her close and sharing his usual bounty of warmth. She found she wanted to be close to him, drawn by his affection and whatever hint of aftershave he was wearing--she realized, as close as she was, that he’d taken the time to shave, flawlessly, and the lingering hints of blaster oil that usually masked his scent were gone, replaced by a spicy, woodsy tint that only served to enhance her body’s response to him. _Kriff_ , she thought. _I’m just putty in his hands, like this._ Actually, she didn’t mind. The realization surprised her.

He was having much the same reaction, whatever she’d put in her hair smelling heavenly and the perfume gently scenting her skin kicking his blood pressure up a few notches; he was definitely glad for the extra time spent in the shower as he made the mistake of glancing down and getting a decent view of the creamy expanse of smooth skin that led to the soft globes that disappeared into her bra. This was an entirely different side of her, he realized. He was very well acquainted with her as a smuggler, a fighter, a medic, her toned body hugged tightly by armored leggings and a heavy jacket, short gray hair styled only by the weather and the elements. Tonight it was softer, not just washed and ignored but encouraged to curl attractively around her face, softening her angular cheeks and drawing attention to her eyes--which were lined in navy blue and shaded with something iridescent he couldn’t quite identify, her lashes long and dark. Her scars were a little less prominent, he realized, but she hadn’t tried to hide them with makeup; they just took a backseat to her eyes, highlighted as they were.

The taxi drew up to the platform and they exited, Corso offering her his hand as she stepped out. She was a little less confident on her feet than usual, he realized, and glanced down to see if she was wearing heels. He was surprised to see sandals on her feet, toenails painted a vibrant fuchsia that somehow didn’t clash with anything but rather accented everything. She noticed him looking and flushed.

“Risha’s idea,” she said.

“I like it,” he said. “It’s... unexpected.”

She smiled and they walked through the streets, by and large safe but there still were dark eyes watching from alleys. She was calm, though, knowledge of her tiny blaster and a folding vibro strapped to her leg and the fact that Corso was openly carrying a weapon--and his pocket shield generator, if she wasn’t mistaken--reassuring her that were they to find trouble, they wouldn’t be too vulnerable. She wasn’t half bad in a fistfight, either, and had a feeling Corso was formidable. She knew how good with his hands he was in all other exploits. The thought made her tingle.

Corso squeezed her hand and nodded towards the open doorway. “We’re here.”

There was a very large Twi’lek at the door, well-dressed but well-armed and clearly security, who greeted them and waved them in. Corso spoke to the host and shortly they were seated at a quiet corner table under twinkling lights. A serving droid brought water and wine glasses, and shortly a bottle of sparkling wine was delivered by the host himself.

“Compliments of the house, to friends of Miss Risha,” he said, presenting the bottle, then opening it expertly. “Please, enjoy.” He poured each of them a glass and left the bottle on the table.

“I hope you don’ mind my askin’ Risha to help find a place,” Corso said as they reached for the glasses.

“Not at all. She knows Nar Shaddaa too well. Cheers,” Jaax’a said.

“T’a lovely lady,” he said, smiling, lifting his glass.

“In that case, to a handsome man,” she replied, and their glasses chimed.

The meal was excellent and the restaurant just romantic enough to heavily flavor their date, but not overwhelm it. They ate leisurely, splurged on dessert--Corso discovered Jaax’a’s weakness for molten chocolate cake; she refused to share more than a morsel--and Corso, shyly, managed to build up the courage to offer her a taste of his dessert. The look on her face as she took it carefully between her lips from his outstretched fork, her eyes closing as she tasted it, was enough to add another set of images to his, ahem, blaster-cleaning routine.

He paid, mostly ignoring her protestations (“You plan th’next time, huh?”) and they left, highly content, Jaax’a happily holding his hand. Corso could have died on the spot a happy man. Blood fizzing from the wine and cheer, they made their way back to the taxi.

“It’s not that late, you know,” Jaax’a said, looking up at Corso. “We could go somewhere else, make a night of it.”

“Got somewhere in mind?”

“Well, we’re dressed for Club Vertica,” she said. “Rare occasion.”

“Lead th’way,” he said, smiling, but first he paused, tugging her to the side of the road, now that they were close to the taxi where security kept the streets calm. The corner was secluded and he looked at her closely, his eyes on hers, then flicking to her lips, then back to her eyes; her eyelids fluttered in response and he bent his head to kiss her, gently, his free hand coming up to cradle her head. Her mouth softened against his, opening, and he deepened the kiss.

Her blood pounded, her body, already heightened from the slinky feel of the dress against her skin, reacting alarmingly quickly to him as he kissed her; she wanted him to hold her tightly to him, let her feel how he wanted her, and the idea was not at all unpleasant--though rather overwhelming. Carefully, so as not to reject him, she untangled herself from the kiss, leaving a soft, lingering touch on his lips. They stood closely together for a long moment, letting their breathing slow, and eventually she looked up at him. His face softened, gazing at her, and she smiled in reply.

Wordlessly they walked to the taxi, and as much as parts of Corso wanted her to tell the driver “Deucalon Spaceport” instead, he was mildly relieved when they departed for Club Vertica. The bouncers let them in without a second look. A lively band was playing, good drinks were flowing, and they spent a cheerful hour dancing, emboldened by alcohol; out of breath, Jaax’a told Corso to get them another drink, and hunted down a table.

He appeared a few minutes later, neat whiskey in one hand and brandy in the other. She smiled as she realized he’d remembered her drink of choice. They sat, talking, for a long time after their drinks were done, waving off the serving droids offering refills. Eventually she felt fatigue swimming over her and realized it was rather late--early, really.

“Lesgo,” Corso said as she covered a yawn, steady on his feet but less inclined to speak clearly. Even so, he offered her his arm, clearly wanting to be close to her. In the taxi, he helped wind the wrap around her shoulders, tucking her closely against him to keep her warm; she nearly dozed off against his shoulder, blinking slowly when they landed and stepping out carefully so as not to trip.

The _Sunsoarer_ was quiet when they came aboard, C2 in a reset routine for the night, only the lowest lighting left on. Corso walked with Jaax’a to her cabin.

“Thank you, Corso,” she said quietly, knowing how voices resonated in the hall. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he said. “Let's do it again? Soon?”

She nodded, smiling, and reached up to kiss him. His arms slid around her and he held her close, not too tightly, his lips seeking over hers. After a long moment he let her go, his restraint gone, and cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing gently over her skin. Her defenses were down and she closed her eyes, leaning gently into the attention. After a long moment she straightened and looked at him.

“You sleeping on the couch?” she asked. It was usual policy for those sharing the crew cabin; if one got back particularly late, instead of waking their fellows, they slept in the main room. He nodded. “Want to stay here instead?”

“With you?”

She nodded, a little shy and not sure why.

“Don’t feel like y’have to, Jaax, I sleep fine--”

“I’d... like you to.”

He blinked, processing. “Well.”

She stepped inside. “Gimme a few to change and wash up?”

“‘Course,” he said. Jaax’a pulled loose clothes out of a drawer and disappeared into her ‘fresher. He thought that wise, so left for the crew ‘fresher, glad it was separate from the quarters. He returned several minutes later, teeth brushed and needs taken care of, and tapped on her door.

She opened it, face free of makeup, hair still softly curled, dressed in a loose shirt and pants that if anything served to make this softer side of her more attractive. He noticed a holster laying on her desk--he had been right about her being armed that evening; a tiny holdout blaster and vibroblade were tucked into the pockets. It was a thigh holster, if he wasn’t mistaken, and he closed _that_ image down, for now.

She smiled at him and stepped out of the way, closing the door behind him. He paused for a moment, realizing that he wasn’t wearing his usual undershirt and, as such, didn’t have anything to wear to bed. “Um, Jaax?”

“Hmm?” She was pulling back the blankets.

“Don’t think these duds qual’fy as pajamas, an’ mine are in my quarters.”

She glanced at him. “No. Awfully nice, though.” Opening a bottom drawer, she pulled out a large tee and sweats. “Io left these last time he stayed. Don’t worry, they’re clean.”

He took the clothes from her and disappeared into the ‘fresher to change; the pants, unfortunately, were too big. Corso wasn’t surprised--Io was not a small guy. He stuck his head out of the door. “D’you mind if I just sleep in m’shorts?”

“Nope,” she mumbled. “Hurry up. M’tired.”

He smiled and folded the pants, putting them back into the drawer they’d come from, and flicked off the lights. Her bed was plenty big for them both--he’d stayed with her before, sort of, when she’d been injured, but this was different. He eased into bed, figuring he’d sleep on one side, her on hers, but she gravitated towards him and cuddled close.

“‘lo there,” he murmured, surprised.

“Not gonna ignore you in m’bed,” she mumbled, and shortly she was asleep. He stayed awake awhile, unused to sleeping with someone else (though not at all complaining), and drifted off to pleasant dreams.


	16. Touch

Jaax’a woke in the morning to the interesting realization that she wasn’t alone and that whoever was in bed with her smelled _wonderful_.

Slowly, she blinked, feeling the steadily radiating warmth behind her shift and exhale against her neck, breathing slowly in his sleep. There was an elusive snippet of a headache skittering around inside her skull, and she yawned, remembering the drinks of the previous evening. She didn’t bother to look at her chrono; she knew it was some odd time of day, given how drowsy she was, still, and regardless it didn’t matter since they weren’t dashing off anywhere.

It took her a moment to process that she wasn’t at all concerned about the male presence against her back, one arm curled possessively around her. She’d not dreamt, either--not that she remembered, anyway, and she only remembered the ones that jarred her awake, shivering and coated in fear-sweat. She was warm right through, which was unusual in itself, and instead of feeling the need to jump up and get started for the day, she found she very much wanted to languish in bed with Corso.

Carefully, she shifted to face him, sighing gently as she tucked her forehead against his chest, and she was beginning to doze again when his breathing picked up and he stretched into wakefulness, arching his back and reaching his arms forward. He stopped, suddenly, realizing Jaax’a was curled against him. “Morning,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” he replied, voice scratchy and thick with sleep. They were silent for a long while; Corso tilted his body so he could hold her more easily, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He turned his head to kiss her hair, ignoring the twinge in his neck from the awkward angle.

She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him. “Sleep okay?”

“Never better,” he said, smiling. “Bowdaar snores.”

She chuckled. There was another long silence as she studied his face, trying to memorize it more; the lines of his jaw, the way his once-broken nose was a little crooked, how his lips curved, the faint scarring on the left side of his face near his hairline. He reached up to trace her cheek, the caress so gentle she had to close her eyes to feel it. Unknown emotions, unbidden, rose in her chest and threatened to spill over. She blinked, trying to hold them back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Corso said, rubbing his thumb over the dampness trembling on her cheek. “I’m here.”

It suddenly hit her, hard, that he _was_ there, with her, always, never wavering, and she ignored the few tears that spilled over and bent to kiss him. His arms wound around her and he hummed, the sound rich as it vibrated from his chest, and she ignored the funny morning-taste in her mouth as she opened her lips to touch her tongue to his. There was something more in this kiss than in the others they’d shared, something solid and concrete, and as he slowly took over she whined, tiny little noises with each brush of their lips together, and then she was on her back, he was on his side, holding her to him, careful not to put weight on her, and her blood was pounding hard in her ears. She untangled her lips, her hands on his face holding his forehead to hers, and breathed him in.

“Jaax,” he groaned, his voice a whisper, and he dropped his head to brush his lips against her neck; electric jolts ran down her spine and she shuddered, another whimper rising from her throat. One of his hands was gliding up and down her side and met her skin where her shirt had ridden up. He continued his movements, slowing as his hand moved up her bare skin, towards where her bra would have interrupted him.

“Corso,” she breathed as his hand slid up. He hesitated; he desperately wanted to cup her breast, feel the tip bead tightly, to bring her pleasure, but knew he didn’t know what would trigger her fear and was loathe to do anything that might. She answered his question as she placed her hand over his, the thin material of her shirt between them, and guided it over her skin to just below the soft globes. She was shaking, quivering, and Corso kissed her cheek. He sat up, withdrawing his hand, and tugged off his borrowed shirt, tossing it to the ground.

“Bit fairer, I reckon,” he said, laying down beside her again, his hand resting on her hip. She reached out to trace his muscled chest, run her thumb over his nipple--which tightened instantly; he shivered--and flatten her palm over his trim stomach, looking at the trail of curled hair which disappeared into his shorts. They were tenting out, but he ignored it, far more interested in Jaax’a than his impatient dick.

She sucked in a breath as his fingers drew circles at her waist and ran her hand down his arm, squeezing his wrist and gently nudging his hand up again. He touched her softly, letting his hand slide up her skin, paying close attention to her reaction. “Lemme know if y’want me t’stop,” he murmured.

“I... I want you to touch me,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. She sounded slightly awed at her own reaction. _Must be a long time since she’s wanted this,_ he thought, his hand sliding over her ribs, feeling the small indentations between. _I aim t’make it perfect._ Slowly, he tilted his hand, and his palm and fingers moved to cup her breast; it fit just so in his hand, heavier than he expected, and after a moment he thumbed her nipple. Her breath hitched and her fingers, spread against his chest, jerked in response. He repeated the action, this time kissing her neck as he did, and earned a tiny squeak for his efforts. Shortly she was arching her back against his hands as he teased the sensitive peaks that capped each breast, her breath choppy and peppered with tiny sounds.

Eventually she gently gripped his hands, stilling them. “Enough,” she panted, her head tucked against his neck. “Oh, Corso.”

He slid his hands to her back, still against her skin, and held her close. She moved closer to him and bumped into his raging erection; he twitched and she froze. “Ignore it,” he murmured to her.

“I...”

“He likes you,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Lots.”

She paused for a moment, insecurity weaving a net between them. “Do you?”

Silence stretched for a beat, then two. “Jaax, whaddaya think?” He pulled his head away to look at her; there was hesitance in her eyes. “Yes. I do. Lots more than him.” He kissed her forehead gently.

“I don’t really know... what to think,” she said, quietly. “Last time I thought I did...”

“Don’ think about that,” he said, reaching up to touch her cheek. “Think ‘bout this instead.” He kissed her, lips intense but gentle, and after a moment she responded to him, body softening in his arms again. In short order she was whimpering, and when he pulled her closer and she brushed against his bulging groin again, she didn’t back away. There was no distance between them as his arms snaked around her and as her hips came flush with his, the sensations of having her snug against him were too much. He groaned against her mouth and broke away, panting. “Kriff, Jaax,” he muttered between breaths. “Stars, I want you.”

“I can... um--”

“No. No no, no, Jaax,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m good. Need a long shower, but I’m good.”

“You’re just... making me feel so _good_ , and--”

“Y’think I’m not on cloud nine ‘bout now?” He nuzzled her neck. “I love--” he stopped himself when he was about to say the wrong thing and quickly swapped it out for “this. It’s perfect.”

“You don’t want... more?”

“You've _no_ idea, Jaax.” He kissed her softly. “Soon. B’not yet.”

Jaax’a mused over this and nodded against his shoulder. Her blood was still pounding, and her body had reacted intensely to his touch, heat and dampness pooling between her legs; she hadn’t had this kind of reaction in years. _Need_ was pulling at her, intense, and she thought a long shower wouldn’t be such a bad idea herself. She was loathe to leave Corso’s arms, though.

Instead she tipped her chin up and he met her lips halfway, seeking, searching. She pushed at him, gently, and he rolled onto his back; she followed him, refusing to break their kiss, and shortly she was straddling his waist, her hands skimming his warm skin, his beneath her shirt and tracing patterns on her back. She could feel the stiff evidence of his wanting her nudging gently against her backside, but ignored it in favor of kissing him, touching him, feeling the electric touch of his fingers gliding under her shirt, wanting more.

“Off,” she murmured in the scant breath between kisses.

“Mm?” He didn’t pause for a reply, returning his mouth to hers, but had to break away when she tugged her shirt over her head. He made to kiss her again but froze when he processed that she was now naked from the waist up. His hands gravitated to her sides, sliding up her skin, and he wrenched his eyes up to her face. She nodded, biting her lower lip, and he let out a great whoosh of breath as he cupped both breasts, fingers circling on the smooth flesh, and she sighed and closed her eyes as his fingers teased her nipples, brushed tingly warmth against her sensitive skin, roughened patches on his palms adding another layer of heated sensation.

“Lay down,” he whispered, and she blinked at him, then did as he asked; he rolled onto his side beside her, then kissed along her shoulder and collarbone. After pausing to nip gently at the pulse point on the side of neck, he trailed kisses down her chest, halting before he got very far. “Can I?”

“Uh-huh,” she whispered, shaky, and he left a lingering kiss before letting his lips glide down into uncharted territory.

“They’re perfect,” he murmured, reverently, pressing gentle kisses to where her breasts met in the center of her chest. “So beautiful. All of you.”

Jaax’a blushed, the redness spreading to include the tops of her breasts, but suddenly forgot to be embarrassed when he flicked his tongue over her left nipple, then closed his lips around it and suckled gently. She’d thought his hands earlier were heavenly, but his attentions now blew _heavenly_ out of the water.

Her hands tangled in his dreads and held him close to her chest; he chuckled, warm breath skating over her skin as he switched to the right side, drawing circles with his nose around the tightly pebbled nub before carefully closing his teeth around it and tugging gently. She squeaked, her hands gripping his dreads tightly for a moment before she relaxed and returned to gently rubbing circles on his scalp, which was really quite nice, he thought, momentarily distracted. Her little noises of encouragement, though, kept him focused, teasing, nosing, letting the roughness of his cheek brush against her skin, determined to hear every sort of sound she made and catalog it firmly for later.

Eventually he slid back up her body to lie next to her; she curled up against him and nestled close. They laid together for long moments, her body relaxing from being so tightly wound, the feel of heated skin against skin almost sinfully good.

“I’m ‘fraid I really need that shower,” he murmured to her. “Gettin’... painful.” She nodded, her nose rubbing against his neck. “Dunno how I’m’a get there, though.” There was no way he was going to be able to shove himself back into the form-fitting pants from the night before, and even if he could, walking in them wasn’t in the cards.

“Use mine. It’s not like they haven’t figured out where you are.”

Corso laughed. “You’re right on that, I reckon.” He kissed her hair and untangled his arms from around her, ignoring the significant part of him that wanted to stay put. “Won’t take long, I promise. You sure you don't... mind?” There was a wry undertone to his voice, though she could tell from the tremor in it that he was in no small amount of sexual distress.

She smiled, shaking her head, and he slid out of bed tentatively. Standing, he glanced down, and shook his head at the cockstand in his boxers.

“Well, that’s a view,” Jaax’a commented dryly, and he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Sneak peek,” he said with a smile, then half-shuffled to the ‘fresher.

“Aw, you tease,” she replied, and was quickly proven right when he shucked his shorts in the doorway, grinning back at her as he flaunted his tightly muscled ass her direction before shutting the door. Moments after the water started, if she listened hard enough, she could hear his voice betraying his control as he began to seek relief, and the thought was enough to convince her own hands to stray south.

 

Corso had managed to duck into the crew quarters to change unnoticed, but when he strolled into the galley as if he hadn’t spent all night and half the day secluded with the woman he was infatuated with, the twin gazes of his compatriots gave him pause.

 _“Thank you for not... waking us up,”_ Bowdaar rumbled, but there were clearly multiple meanings in his tone, and he smirked--well, the Wookiee equivalent, really.

Risha laughed openly. “I think he slept somewhere rather more entertaining, Bow.”

 _“Just how entertaining?”_ Bowdaar replied, grinning toothily.

Corso shook his head and headed for the cabinet, looking for a snack.

“In all seriousness, Corso, I take it everything went... well?”

He glanced at Risha, who quickly lost her poker face and grinned widely. He felt himself flushing, heat rising to his face, and the woman cackled.

“Our Corso got himself some action, Bowdaar!”

“Say that much louder an’ Jaax might have somethin’ t’say ‘bout it,” Corso grumbled good-naturedly, used to his crewmate’s rather raunchy sense of humor.

“Say, where is our captain?”

 _“She able to walk, Corso?”_ Bowdaar chuckled at Corso’s heated glare.

“I’m walkin’ just fine, thanks, Wook,” Jaax’a replied for him, dressed in her usual duds, freshly showered. “An’ maybe keep your noses in your own lives, huh?” It wasn’t so much of a request as an order.

“Aw, c’mon, Jaax. We’re just having a little fun with Riggs. Like you.”

A pointed look from under one raised eyebrow ended _that_ line of commentary.

“So... where we goin’ next, Captain?” Corso asked, leaning against the counter as he munched some variety of chip.

“Haven’t decided,” she replied, filling a glass with water. Her body was still humming, full to the brim with the restless energy Corso had stirred from where it had laid dormant. She was having trouble ignoring it with him so close by; she had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to, now that he'd affected her so deeply. She had the odd, fleeting sensation of him against her for a brief moment, his body mimicking hers at her back, lying along her skin and teasing it to shivers, which made the feeling disappear like steam. She drank half the glass, then turned to her crew. "Anybody have any ideas?"

"There was a comm message for you, earlier," Risha said. "From Pollaran or somebody."

"Drat." Jaax'a sighed and flicked on the comm in the lounge, calling up the recorded message from Darmas. His image flickered into blue, projected life.

"Hello, my dear!" his hologram said. "Please, come meet us at Port Nowhere. I'll transmit the coordinates to your ship. We have a proposal for you." The blueness collapsed on itself and withdrew into the holocomm.

"Did I tell you we could trust Darmas?" Corso said, arms crossed over his chest. "I meant _not_ trust him. Ever."

Jaax'a shrugged. "We'll see what he has to say and take extra blasters, just in case. Anybody have any last-minute shopping to do?" Rumbles and voices in the negative answered her. "Ceetwo! We restocked?"

"Yes, mistress. I have endeavored to provide the greatest of services to you. In your absence I added additional padding to the seats to ensure the utmost in your comfort--"

"Let's haul jets," Jaax'a said, and everyone rose simultaneously to begin strapping down items, putting dishes away and locking cupboards. The smuggler captain headed for the bridge and began preflight checks. She was entering in the coordinates Darmas had sent when Corso came running in, words stumbling over themselves, personal comm in hand.

"Jaax, I just got real good news!"

"Slow down, Corso."

He took a breath. "Somebody tried to access Viidu's old bank accounts on Tatooine. It must be one of my old crew. They were like a family to me after mine was killed. I didn't think any of them had survived Skavak and Syreena. I... know it's askin' a lot, Jaax'a, but--"

"Don't worry about it, Corso," she said, turning back to the hyperdrive computer and changing the coordinates. "We can make a detour." Relief washed over his face as Jaax'a punched the intercom. "Change of plans, gang. We're making a side trip to Tatooine, got someone to pay a visit to. Shouldn't take long. Takeoff in five."

A garbled Wookiee rumble of acknowledgement came through the intercom and she cut the line, then flicked on the comm and confirmed their departure with spaceport security. The hangar shield fell and she flicked on the repulsorlifts, the freighter lifting off her landing struts, and she turned gracefully under Jaax'a's hands, gliding out of the spaceport and up into orbit. They soared around the planet, then used its gravitational pull to slingshot into hyperspace, stars lengthening into streaks as they flew towards Tatooine.

"The only one with access to the accounts was our slicer, a Twi'lek kid named Jettison," Corso said, looking out the viewport, one hand on the durasteel frame below. "From what I can tell the attempt came from some village, way off the beaten path. No name or anything. Really makes me wonder what he's doin' out there."


	17. Saying Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **New Ch 17 added!!**
> 
> There was something niggling at me for some time at just how Jaax'a comes to conclusions about her feelings for Corso, and I finally figured out how to fix it... with a new chapter. Hooray! (Corso's realization is in a separate fic of deleted scenes, "Between the Lines"--but this piece just feels too important to the work to not have it be included.) With any luck, this is a new Ch 17 ("Saying Something"), with 17 becoming 18 ("Tatooine: Jettison") and so forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 16 recap, if you don't want to reread (the horror!): After they have a lovely dinner on Nar Shaddaa, Corso and Jaax'a sleep together (srsly, guys, just sleeping) and wake up and get, um, rather more acquainted with each other from the waist up. They're preparing to go meet up with Darmas Pollaran when Corso gets a comm...
> 
>  
> 
> _The hangar shield fell and she flicked on the repulsorlifts, the freighter lifting off her landing struts, and she turned gracefully under Jaax'a's hands, gliding out of the spaceport and up into orbit. They soared around the planet, then used its gravitational pull to slingshot into hyperspace, stars lengthening into streaks as they flew towards Tatooine._
> 
>  
> 
> _"The only one with access to the accounts was our slicer, a Twi'lek kid named Jettison," Corso said, looking out the viewport, one hand on the durasteel frame below. "From what I can tell the attempt came from some village, way off the beaten path. No name or anything. Really makes me wonder what he's doin' out there."_

Jaax’a wondered how they found themselves, yet again, in hyperspace’s slipstream towards Tatooine. _Kriffing blasted twin-sunned planet. Just my luck._

To boot, the place was way out on the Outer Rim, and it took longer than she liked to get there. It gave her time to think. She really didn’t want time to think, right now. Her date— _okay, was it a date? What about after? What was_ that _?_ That _wasn_ _’t_ just _anything_ _—_ with Corso had thrown her carefully balanced equilibrium for a loop and her mind was on instant replay over and over.

She wasn’t a woman of unmanageable desires, one who slid between the sheets with anyone who offered, not even early on before she’d learned lessons the hard way. She appreciated attractive people, occasionally found a vague blood-thrumming interest in one or two, but she always saw it as detached from the rest of her and could usually satisfy that momentary desire on her own. It wasn’t a _need_ ; just a want, and while she had little issue with indulging her wants when it came to a second cup of caf in the morning or a nice bottle of brandy for her stash, wants got so much more _complicated_ when sex got involved.

But then Corso came along, and the first time he touched her, her body had hiccupped, in this fascinating little way, and it hadn’t stopped. It had only gotten worse, and now, after last night, this morning, after knowing what his hands and mouth did to her body… it wasn’t just a want anymore. There was a need, now, and if she wasn’t trying to focus on something (or even if she was) her brain was rapid-fire _Corsocorsocorso_ and her nerve endings did something crazy when he got near her and oh, stars above when he _touched_ her, even just brushing against her shoulder in passing or kriff, _kriff_ , when their eyes met… every time she felt her insides go to jelly and her thighs get wobbly and widen just the slightest and if she didn’t know better she would have sworn her DNA was jumping up and down and screaming for him. Every. Kriffing. Time.

What was an ovulating woman supposed to do with _that?_ There was only so much willpower in the galaxy, and there wasn’t enough of it to keep her from _wanting_.

She heaved out a sigh and rested her head on her forearm, feeling the cold table against the tip of her nose, and then suddenly her hair stood on end and alarm bells went off, _Corsocorsocorsocorso!,_ and then his hand was on her shoulder and the jelly-feelings started again.

“You alright?”

Oh _stars_. She’d somehow, amazingly, how on earth could she have?, gone and forgotten the things his voice did to her, especially now that she’d heard it _that way_ , rough and husky against her ear, the movement of his lips as he spoke brushing across the tingliest parts of her neck, the gentle rasp of his just-barely-unshaven cheek roughening her skin, and that was all while she was refusing to think about that mouth doing crazy things to her skin about eight inches further south. Or, oh, _stars above_ , further south than _that_. Oh indeed. She shuddered, a long, simmering sigh of blood down her spine. “Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Y’don’t look alright, shudderin’ an' sighin' like that,” he said, quietly. Jaax’a shook her head and lifted it to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, scooting over in the circular seat so he could sit as well. “Not really. I’m not loving the idea of going back to Tatooine, but I’ll be alright.”

“I’m not gonna leave your side, this time,” he said, his body far too close to hers for her to maintain coherent thoughts. She was practically humming on a cellular level, feeling like she might vibrate apart. “Jaax, I could hear you thinkin’ from the other side o’the ship, an’ I reckon I know you well enough by now. It’s not just Tatooine, is it.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” she said, voice small, not looking at him.

“Havin’… second thoughts ‘bout earlier?” She could hear the thread of hope in his voice that he was wrong.

“No,” she said, and made herself look up and over at him, so desperate to look at him that she could barely keep her eyes open to do it. “No, Corso. No second thoughts.”

“Oh.” The syllable was flooded with a silent  _thank the stars_.

“I’m just…” She swallowed and fumbled for words. “It’s… it’s a lot. For me to handle. I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I hate that.”

“I don’t really, either,” he admitted. “I just know that it feels right.”

“It does, doesn’t it,” she said, and watched, mesmerized, as his hand moved to cover hers on the table, warm and dry, soft and rough all at once. The humming beneath her skin got worse, or was it better? She took a long, shaky breath. “Corso, all I know is… I’ve never… felt this way before. I don’t understand it. I’ve always been able to separate the wants and needs from the rest of my life and all of a sudden I can’t and then you touch me, or say something, and…”

“Y’feel like you’re gonna burst, or somethin’,” he said, quietly, and their eyes met again.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” His hand closed around hers, not just touching but holding.

They were silent for a while, and Corso found himself wanting to tell her, wanting to say the little phrase that sounded so tiny but held so much, full of promise, soaked in it, but he didn’t think she was ready to hear it. Not yet. Soon, he hoped. Real soon. But not just yet.

She swallowed and looked at him, something lurking in her eyes that made him want to hold her tight. “I… I don’t know if… it’s not the right words, but…” She looked profoundly uncomfortable, her throat and mouth working but no sound emerging.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” he told her, squeezing her hand gently.

She shook her head. “I have to say something.”

“Okay.” He let her hand go and slid his arm around her shoulders; she leaned into him, but he could feel her trembling. _If there was any question that she_ _’s been burned before,_ he thought, _there ain_ _’t now. Stars but what I wouldn_ _’t do to make this easy on her._

“This… sounds… horribly inelegant, but…” Corso smiled at the idea of her being such a thing, _horribly inelegant,_  and she took a breath and kept going. “I don’t know what else to say but that… I care. A lot. About you, I mean. Not just because you’ve saved my life, more than once, or because you’re a walking weapons depot or because you helped me get my ship back or you give me really nice blasters. I… I... kriff, Corso, I can’t even get... the words out.”

“Don’ need to,” he said, gently, and rested three fingers of his free hand on her chin and turned her face towards his. “I know what you’re sayin’, even without 'em.” He covered her mouth with his own, lips gentle, and after a frozen second she melted into him, almost sobbing with relief. He thought she might have sighed  _oh thank the Force_ against his lips, but he wasn't sure. Slowly they broke apart and he just held her to him.

“It’s a long time to Tatooine,” she said, quietly, and looked up to meet his gaze. “I was… kinda lonely.”

“Me too,” he said, touching her cheek.

“Come with me?”

He slid out of the seat and waited for her to stand. “Right behind you, Captain.”

Jaax’a smiled at his steady little phrase. “So you are.”

“Always.” She slid her hand into his and headed for her cabin. She wasn’t quite ready to finally let go and let _all_ of her want take over, but there were an awful lot of pleasant ways to pass the time with one very willing Corso Riggs.


	18. Tatooine: Jettison

It was a long, hard slog through the sand to get to the coordinates Corso had, and Jaax'a was even more disgusted with Tatooine than she had been when they finally got there in the falling darkness. It was saying a lot, considered that her first visit to the dustball had gotten her kidnapped and nearly killed by slavers and the second was full of hired assassins out to kill her.

She was instantly creeped out by the cavern and the sounds inside; they reminded her of vicious predators, snarling and gobbling. "Hey, you have a minute? We're looking for a stranger, in your village?" she asked the woman standing there outside a force-shield, a slave collar around her neck.

"Yeah, a Twi'lek kid called Jettison," Corso added.

"No strangers. No strangers here," she said, her voice oddly cadenced. "They don't like them. You be smart, you don't be one."

"What's wrong? What's goin' on behind that shield?" Corso asked, concerned.

"Busy. Busy time. It's feast day," she said, and started laughing, hysterical. "Taste... just like... bantha!"

"We're not gettin' anything outta her," Jaax'a said, and after slicing easily into the shield generator she slid Sparkles out of her belt and strode boldly into the cavern, Corso cursing under his breath and pulling Torchy free as he followed her. "Don't go past the shield! I warned you!" shouted the woman behind them, but they ignored her. A Twi'lek knelt on a rocky platform further down the cave, hands behind him, tied hand and foot to a stake. He was surrounded by armed men who looked to have at one time been a part of a citizen militia. Now... now, not so much. Jaax'a sighed and flicked Sparkles's safety off.

"Fresh meat," one man said, and walked towards them, swagger fishtailing in the dirt of the cave.

"Wow. When she said you were nuts, I was thinking more run-of-the-mill cultists," Jaax'a muttered, settling her fingers on her blaster's grip. "Cannibals take the prize."

"You mock us! You have no idea what it takes to survive in the desert! Her gifts are few. It is blasphemy to waste any flesh she provides."

"Are you seriously trying to justify this?" Corso said, hefting Sergeant Boom.

"Kill them! Save the organs!" the cult leader said, waving his hands crazily, and Jaax'a sighed as she raised her blaster and fired.

It almost wasn't fair, she reflected, kicking weapons out of stilled hands in the dirt as they moved towards the rocky outcropping. They hadn't stood a chance against a pair of well-aimed blasters. She crouched down to cut the Twi'lek's bonds and he looked up, fuzzily; Jaax'a realized he'd been forced to stare at the fire before him and was temporarily blinded by the light.

"Corso? Is that you? How did you... I... I didn't think I would ever see you..." He breathed, sucking in air. "I heard they took in strangers that were new to the planet. They locked me up, and... were they gonna _eat_ me?"

"They're gone," Jaax'a said, ignoring his disturbing question. "Not gonna bother anyone again."

"How'd you make it, Jet? I thought Syreena'd got the whole crew!"

"Had the sec cameras wired to my comm. Saw the whole thing go down," he said, rubbing his wrists. "Started running, and... I didn't stop until I hit Tatooine. I was tryin' t'start over. After what Syreena did..."

"It's rough, to lose friends like that," Jaax'a said, sympathetic, and Corso glanced at her, grateful for her kindness towards the young Twi'lek.

"I don't have anyone, no.. no place to go, no money, nothing..."

"Don't worry, Jet, we'll take care of you," Corso said, firmly. "One or two people in Anchorhead owe us a good turn. I'll try to set you up with some legit work. I think you've had enough of the wild side."

"I'll say." Jettison shuddered. "There's no one more loyal than Corso, Captain. You're lucky to have him at your back."

Jaax'a glanced at Corso, thinking, _I know_.

It was a long trip back to Anchorhead; they stopped at a Republic outpost, where Jet was tended to by a med-droid and wolfed down an impressive plate of rations and the three of them slept through the heat only until the worst of it had passed and continued on. After finally reaching it, they left Jettison with the head of the local cantina's security with a loaded suggestion that he hire the young man--and enough credits to get him offworld, just in case.

So it was much later than they'd hoped, evening falling, the pair of them windblown and thoroughly tired of shaking sand out of their boots, that Corso followed Jaax’a up the stairs to the Sunsoarer. They were beyond exhausted; Jaax’a had to key in the entry code twice despite her fingers’ knowing it by rote.

She stumbled on the last stair up and Corso caught her. “C’mon, Captain. Let’s get you something to eat.”

“Too tired.”

“Food,” he said. She sighed and went to the galley without complaint, where she slumped in the booth around the table while Corso rummaged for something more edible than ration bars. Finding a package of freeze-dried soup, he set about heating water for two portions. A few minutes later he set a steaming mug in front of Jaax’a, who’d dozed off.

“Not th’greatest, but it’ll do.”

She blinked at him, then looked at the mug. “Worlds better than ration bars, Corso. Thanks.”

Jaax’a pulled the spoon out, licked it clean, set it down and simply drank the soup from the mug. Corso raised an eyebrow, never having seen her so lazily casual, but used his spoon anyway. An overly vicious slurp sent a noodle flying to stick to her nose; Jaax’a glared at it, cross-eyed, and Corso snorted.

The exhausted silence broke as she glared at him, then back at the noodle, sending him into hysterics. She followed, and the two of them laughed until they cried over nothing at all. Bowdaar walked by, saw them, and shook his head, muttering something unintelligible in Shyriiwook.

Slowly they calmed and Corso was about to return to his soup when he noticed the noodle had somehow managed to survive, perched atop Jaax’a’s nose. “Uh, Jaax?”

“What?” She set her empty mug down.

“Noodle’s... still there...”

She sighed. Suddenly possessed with an idea he would probably regret later, Corso reached out, rested his fingers under Jaax’a’s chin, and gently kissed her nose, taking the noodle with him.

Suddenly she was on him, clambering on to his lap, mouth firmly attached to his, fatigue forgotten. Tatooine still clung to them in smears and in their hair. Absently she noticed he smelled like dust, sweat, blaster fire, kolto, and that unique undercurrent she’d decided to just call _Corso. Not at all unpleasant._ Her mug clattered to the floor; Corso had the presence of mind--just--to push his bowl to the center of the table.

“Jaax.” His voice was muffled by her lips; she pulled back for a moment. “Jaax.”

“What?” Her eyes were wild, pupils blown wide.

“Don’ get me wrong, I don’t wanna stop, but...” He gestured to the galley around them. She was up in a flash, her hand in his, and shortly they were ensconced in her cabin.

It was the first time they’d found themselves here without some prior discussion and Corso was at a loss. His body craved her, _needed_ her; stars knew how much blood was currently missing from his brain and headed south. But he grasped at the tendrils of sense that remained and anchored them firmly. This was _Jaax_. Not only was this the woman he’d fallen head over heels for, she was one who he needed to be careful with. Sex wasn’t just sex, not here, not with Jaax.

Not yet, anyway.

“Corso?” Her voice shook him out of it, sounding tentative, and he smiled, hoping to soothe her.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Hold me?”

His arms answered her, drawing her close. He could feel her shivering, guessing it was as much from anxiety as desire. “Always.”

She calmed as they stood together and he felt exhaustion rippling over them in waves. “C’mon, Jaax. You need to sleep.”

“I want you.”

His heart--and, well, other places--leapt, but he tamped them down, for now. “I know, sweetheart. Stars know I do, too. One thin' atta time.”

She unfurled from where she’d tucked herself around him and he loosened his arms; she stepped away and toed off her boots, then unfastened her pants and let them fall. Corso’s eyebrows shot up, then he spun around. “Uh, Captain? I’m still here.”

“I know.” He heard a rustle of fabric, then the heavy _whump_ of her jacket. “I’m gonna do something about this dust, but...” A pause. “You can turn around, you know.”

He chanced a look over his shoulder; her back was to him. By some miracle of magic she’d gotten her bra off from under her shirt (how women did that he didn’t know; the damned things were hard enough to get off with hands _and_ eyes) and she was clad in underwear and a thin tank top, her lean, muscled legs bare and highly distracting. She disappeared into the ‘fresher and he heard water run for a moment before she came back out, running a damp cloth over her face and neck. He was still standing there, unmoving, entirely uncertain of what was going on.

“C’mon, Corso. We’re exhausted. I... don’t want to be alone, not really. Stay? You can even be the big spoon.” She ran the damp cloth over her arms and pitched it towards the laundry bin, where it landed with a dim _plop_.

Corso sighed. _She might jus’ be th’death of me_. “You got another cloth? I’m just as dirty, if not worse.”

“In the cabinet in there.” She gestured lazily to the ‘fresher, then smiled at him before turning to climb in to bed.

Corso stepped in to the ‘fresher and was surprised. He hadn’t expected anything but the sparse cleanliness she favored, androgynous, almost masculine, but in the cabinet was a bin of makeup and perfume; hers, not Risha’s. _She will be the death of me. Stars_.

He slipped out of his pants, opting to leave his shirt, and bent over the sink to splash his face. He wiped off as Jaax had, then folded his pants, set them on the floor just outside the ‘fresher with the cloth, and stepped towards the bed.

Before getting in, he chanced a casual sniff at his underarms. _Stang. That is_ not _goin’ t’work_. Long practice told him the shirt was probably the worst offender; he stripped it off, then went for the cloth again. Feeling cleaner, he swallowed hard and willed the not-so-exhausted parts of his body to stay calm, then climbed into bed carefully, flicking off the light.

“Hey, you,” Jaax’a whispered. “Thought you were gonna leave me alone.” In her sleepy state, it came out throaty and undeniably sexy, much to Corso’s dismay. He took a deep breath and willed his skyrocketing blood pressure to come down.

“Never,” he replied, voice shaky.

“Relax,” she said. “No pressure, farmboy. Just sleep.”

“One problem w’that,” he muttered, and said problem became apparent when Jaax’a shifted towards him and nestled herself in his arms, her firm backside against him. She stilled as she felt the extent of said problem and Corso held his breath, praying she wouldn’t react badly. _Please, please..._

She chuckled softly. “I see.”

Corso sighed and lifted his head from the pillow, unable to resist gently kissing her shoulder. “Sorry. Can’t do much ‘bout it. He's... just ignore him. He’ll calm down.” _I hope._

They laid together for some time, just breathing, Corso reveling in the feel of having her so naturally in his arms, Jaax’a enjoying being held for the sake of being held, nothing more. She dozed. Corso figured he’d be awake a little while, his body far too interested in the woman in his arms to allow him sleep. He spent the time memorizing her scent and cataloging it, despite the permeating layer of all that was Tatooine masking the essence that was Jaax’a. He sighed, dropping his lips to her shoulder again, then shifting to hopefully get a little more comfortable.

“Not calming down, huh?” she mumbled.

“Sorry t’wake you.” His voice was deep, vibrating, and her heart ticked faster.

“Wasn’t really asleep.” Jaax’a shifted and turned so she faced him. “It’s... hard to get used to.”

“What is?”

“Falling asleep with someone, like this. Not since...”

He kissed her forehead. “S’okay, Jaax. I can go.”

“No... please, stay.”

They laid facing each other, and Corso moved a stray lock of steel-gray hair away from her face. Jaax’a seemed to be debating mentally and Corso let her be, simply enjoying being near her, having her safely encircled in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	19. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. We officially blow past all concept of what may or may not qualify as explicit into hell-yes-that-is-explicit in this chapter.
> 
> Also, minor trigger warning.

“Corso?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t... I don’t want to wait. Not anymore.”

“Wait fer what?”

“Us. This. _More._ Whatever it is.”

“Sex? Jaax’a, I--please. Don’t rush this. It isn’ worth it.”

He wondered briefly if he’d said the wrong thing; her eyes filled and grew bright. “Corso...”

He couldn’t help but wipe away the tear that fell, his own throat tightening. “Jaax?”

“Please. Help me get past this.”

“Anythin’ you need.”

She swallowed, clearly fighting back her tears, and took a deep breath. “Corso... m-make love to me?”

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead, instantly conflicted. Every cell was crying out for her, needing her desperately, but he knew this wouldn’t be--wasn’t--about him. His pleasure didn’t matter, only hers. He reached for the light panel, casting a dim illumination over them to better see her face.

“One condition.”

She nodded, and he kissed away the tear that fell.

“You tell me the minute--th’ _instant_ \--somethin’ ain’t right.” She nodded again. “And..."

“That’s two.”

He raised an eyebrow and continued. “Let me do somethin’ first. If you’re okay with it.”

“What is it?”

“Trust me?”

“With everything I am.”

He smiled. “Lay back?” He propped himself up on an elbow as she did and bent his head to kiss her, softly, gently. She reached around him, fingers seeking over his smooth back for purchase to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away and shook his head gently. “Let me, Jaax. Please. Let me.”

She knew what he meant; let me _in._ It was something she’d never done, not since she’d been hurt so badly. Her body quivered at the thought, her stomach bottoming out in fear, but she took it in hand and quashed it. She nodded.

“Tell me th’minute you want me t’stop.”

“Never.”

“Pause, then. Or if s’too much, the wrong thing--tell me.” She nodded and he rewarded her with another kiss, too fleeting until he began to trace the contours of her face with his lips; along one cheekbone, down along her jaw, unflinchingly over her cybernetic implant and to her scars. He laid loving kisses along the span of each of them, sparing no skin from his treatment, taking the tears she shed with him. He knew her triplet scars were constant reminders of failure and pain; he set out to replace that with himself, with his love, his adoration.

He worked his way down her neck to her collarbone, nosing gently at the soft skin. He continued his ministrations over her shirt, shifting as he worked his way down, curving his kisses towards her navel. She reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head, and reached for him. He brought his arms around her and she snuggled closely, sighing as their skins touched, his body firm and warm against her.

“This can’t be helping your... problem.”

“Not in th'least. He’ll survive.” He kissed her and they began again; he waited until she reached for him, her lips begging his to deepen his kiss. She flicked her tongue along his lower lip and he let her in, tangling his with hers. She murmured softly against his lips and arched against him, her breasts brushing his chest, shuddering at the sensation. Corso shifted downwards and kissed along her collarbone again, then trailed down. “May I?”

Her breath was shallow, but she managed to hum what he was fairly sure was a yes. Gently he kissed his way around one breast, then the other; she was murmuring something, though he couldn’t tell what, and turning to butter in his arms. Her undoing--so far, at least--came when he flicked his tongue over one of the soft peaks. She squeaked, breath hitching, and he took it into his mouth, suckling, and what spilled from her throat was a full-throated moan that drove lightning to his cock. He mumbled something as he let that breast go and attached his mouth to the other, letting his teeth graze the tip. She stiffened slightly and moaned again before tapping his shoulder. He let go and looked at her. “You okay?”

“What... what did you say?” Her eyes were glazed and her voice was thick, like syrup.

He chuckled. “You have no idea what y’do t’me, Jaax, you really don’t. You’re beautiful.”

She flushed further--if that was possible--and glanced down at her breasts, which were full and firm from his attention, and a swirl of arousal tinged with nervousness tightened in her belly. He gently closed his mouth around the nearest nipple and tugged, letting his teeth scrape against the sensitive flesh, and she was unable to do anything but moan softly, hips tilting. He switched to the other and bit more firmly; she panted his name and he felt her hands tangling in his dreads.

Switching back, he let his free hand come up to tease the other nipple as he licked, suckled and bit; she was out of breath and halfway incoherent when he eased up, gently kissing each flushed, peaked nipple as he returned to lie next to her. He clamped down on thoughts of his throbbing cock, knowing the pleasant agony was only going to get worse, not really caring. She was worth it.

“Corso?”

“Mm?” He kissed her cheek as she gazed at him.

“You stopped.”

He smiled, eyes fond. “You were ‘cross the galaxy. Figured I’d wait for you t’catch up.”

She sighed and let her head tilt to rest against him. “Kriff. I think... I almost came, just from that.”

“Almost?” He tilted his head.

“Not quite, but pretty close.”

“Almost ain’t good enough for me.” He skimmed his fingers along her flat, taut belly and rested them on one hip, fingering the cloth of her underwear. “May I?”

She didn’t hesitate, lifting her hips so he could slip them over and away. The fabric clung wetly to her core, peeling off; she twitched at the sensation, trying to remind herself to breathe. It wasn’t her nakedness, so much, that was the problem, but the intention in Corso’s eyes, the naked hunger he was trying to conceal, the closeness that held them so near.

Corso crawled down the bed and arranged himself so he could watch her from his position between her legs. She was relaxed, but he saw the anxiety lurking behind her eyes. “Uh... Corso?”

“Yeah?” His voice was growing rough; it was getting harder and harder to contain himself.

“I... well, there’s... kriff. Hang on.” She sat up, leaning on one arm. “I’d kinda... well, not really forgotten, but...” She ran her fingers along the inside of each thigh; Corso could see faint, silvery lines. “When... the crew...” She gritted her teeth and spat the words out. “When they raped me, they... they each left one of these.”

Realization dawned. “They _cut_ you?” _And there was more than one?_

She nodded and pointed, hands shaking. “Here... here... here... here... and this one.” It was largely obscured by the curls that nestled above her core, but he could see the edges of a slash, far thicker, that hovered above her clitoris. It had to have been deep. “They said they didn’t want me to... forget. As if I could.” Her voice was raw and breaking.

His hand was resting just above her knee; she closed her legs and curled herself together, away from him. He sat up and quickly moved to scoop her into his arms, maneuvering them backwards to the pillows. He leaned against the headboard, holding her as she shook, overwhelmed.

“I’m here, Jaax,” he murmured into her ear. “I got you.” He was somehow able to hide in his voice the fact that white-hot fury pounded through his veins, how he wanted nothing but to rip each one who hurt her limb from limb. He pushed the emotions back into the cave they came from and focused on the here and now, soothing her how he could, pressing his lips to her forehead, her hair, tracing circles over her skin.

“I killed them,” she said, absently, as if she’d known his thoughts. “That night. I went in, woke them up with a blaster to their head, made sure they knew it was me, and fired. Every one. Shoved them out the airlock along with everything I could find that wasn’t bolted down. Then I cleaned her, scoured everything, and rechristened her.”

“That happened... _here?_ _”_

She swallowed. “I stared at that patch in the ceiling.” She looked up at it. “Wasn’t patched, then. Loop of wire was hanging out. But that’s what I stared at.”

With that, her bravado broke, and she dissolved into tears, sobbing brokenly. Corso murmured nonsense to her, gently stroked her back, her hair, kissed her forehead, anything to ease her pain. Long minutes later, her sobs gave way to hiccups. “Guess... guess I’m not strong enough. Not even now.”

“Jaax. No. Jaax...” He squeezed her, hard, and met her gaze, tipping her chin up. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You didn’t throw yourself out the airlock, you didn’t just report them and leave, you didn’t even ditch the ship--you took it for yourself and now look at you. You have every right not to speak to a man again and here you are, naked in my arms. I don’t even... Jaax...”

“I don’t feel naked with you,” she whispered. “I let you in. You asked.”

“I had no idea I was askin’ so much.” He kissed her forehead, trying to let it all sink in.

“That’s why I had to.”

They shifted, slowly, so they were laying down again, tangled in each other. Some time passed; he thought she’d dozed off and was surprised when she spoke. “Corso?”

He left his train of thought and opened his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Do you...” Her voice trembled and faded to a whisper. “Do you still want me?”

“Stars, yes,” he answered, unwavering. “With everythin’ I am and can be. Will be.”

“Even with the scars?”

“All of them.” He touched her face, where the most visible of them showed, and traced one along her upper arm.

She kissed him, then, hands on either side of his face, and he was reminded of just how strong she was as her body twined around him. He felt himself harden against her thigh, caught between his; her fierce kisses were enough to send his head spinning and he groaned, unable to not let his hips twitch against her. She paused, then rocked, tentatively, in return, and he broke the kiss to pant for breath against her lips.

“Jaax.” She rocked against him again and he grit his teeth. “Jaax! If you don’ stop--” She let her hips roll and slide up his length and he quickly stilled her, biting his lower lip, _hard._ “Jaax. Please. I can’t... I can’t keep control if y’do that.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because all _he_ wants right now is to fuck you senseless and that’s not what’s gonna happen. Not yet.”

“You have something else in mind?” She raised an eyebrow and let her voice slide into that sultry, sexy tone she used when flirting, the one he couldn't resist.

He repressed a groan. “I aim to make you forget all that, t’night,” he murmured roughly. “But you tell me if s’too much.” She nodded and as he crawled backwards down the bed, kissing along her side to her hip, she rolled onto her back and let her legs fall open.

She closed her eyes and anticipated the pain of being stretched past her comfort, of tender scar tissue being rubbed, of something being taken instead of given. What she wasn’t prepared for were gentle kisses along each thigh where vibroblades had left their marks; a gasp, pulled from her chest when the kisses extended to the scar above her core, making a V down to her clitoris; or when her world fell apart as Corso gently took the tiny nub between his lips to flick with his tongue, so slow she thought she’d break before he touched her again. Her concept of her body’s capability to _feel_ exploded like stars behind her eyelids.

Jaax’a panted, head thrown back, body arching off the bed as Corso suckled, his fingers tracing patterns along one thigh and across her core. Already sensitive from his slow, aching work earlier, her body went into overdrive. He began to lap softly at the swollen, hidden folds between her legs, his own blood firmly south at the taste of _her_ on his tongue, soft and musky and all woman. He glanced up at her to be certain of her reaction as he slid one finger into her, slowly; she saw him and nodded. After a moment, he slid a second finger home, and she wriggled, gasping for breath. _So close. So close._

The sensations were overwhelming. She hadn’t been brought to this height in years--if ever, and she couldn’t help but rock her hips against Corso’s mouth and hands as he worked. Tiny squeaks and moans were joined by his hums and heavy breaths of encouragement; the vibrations against her most sensitive bundle of nerves were almost too much, and she whimpered, caught between needing less and wanting more, more, _more._

With a belated thanks to his cousin’s trashy--though apparently informative--holonovels, Corso crooked his fingers up and let the calloused pads slide down the slick walls gripping them; as he did, he suckled gently at her clit. He repeated this, dimly noting her panting moans and heaving chest and how she tangled her hands in his dreads again, tugging, whining. Suddenly, she stiffened, her body tensing, clenching, then pulsing hard around his fingers once, twice, then wildly, out of control at last. He heard her echo her body’s response, moaning his name, the long _o_ of the word trailing off to a tiny scream, and she tugged upwards on his hair convulsively; he untangled himself from her and did as he was bid, returning to her face where she kissed him soundly, clinging, tongue tangling with his, tasting herself on him as she quivered and shook, his fingers still rotating around her clit while she rode out her orgasm.

Slowly, she returned to him, opening her eyes and focusing them on his fondly smiling face. She was flushed and sweaty, heavy in his arms. “I... that was... Corso...”

“I know.”

After a long, shared smile, she glanced down. His shorts were soaked and tented. He noticed her gaze and shrugged. “Not much I can do about him anymore.”

“It’s my turn to have an idea.” She reached down; he stopped her.

“Jaax, no. You don’t need to.”

“I _want_ to.”

“You sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

She was unwilling to move from his arms, so it was awkward going, untangling him from his shorts. He hissed as they rubbed against him, but when his prick sprang free, he sighed at the cool air against his tortured nerves. His eyes were closed; they snapped open as she grasped him firmly and began tugging, sliding her hand up and down. “Jaax! _Fuck!_ _”_

Jaax’a immediately loved the feel of his cock in her hand, the weight of it, the velvet of his most sensitive skin, the slick moisture beading on the tip. It flushed darker, tinting purple even beneath his dark skin, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

She grinned and kept going as he tried to keep more or less still. He thudded his head back on the bed several times, shaking it back and forth, having to vent his pent-up frustration somehow. “This ain’t gonna take long,” he warned her; he’d been holding back so long he was surprised he hadn’t come as soon as her hand had gripped him, and combined with her scent and most intimate tastes still heady on his tongue and lips,  lingering in his nose, he was nearly at his breaking point already. His head swam as his blood rushed and fizzed beneath his skin.

“Lay back and relax, then, farmboy.”

He did as instructed, relaxing against the pillows, one arm around her as she slid her hand along his length, pulling the loose skin up and back. Her hand twisted as she reached his tip, gathering the moisture there and sliding it around the sensitive crown; a few curves of her wrist at the end of her strokes had his cock weeping freely, sensitive beyond belief. Corso felt himself tightening and growing even harder, his balls clenching, pulsing. She’d done this before, clearly, and he couldn’t help but let his hips jerk up into her hand as she worked his stiff, aching dick with her palm and fingers. His breath came quick and hard and he groaned as his pelvis tightened and his head spun, body tingling. “Jaax--about to--fuck, _fuck--Jaax!_ _”_ He groaned and tried to stay still, fists in the sheets, as he came, Jaax’a’s hand holding him, her fingers coaxing every last spasm out of his trembling length. Vision hazy, his body finally released him and he laid limp, only dimly noting Jaax’a leaving the bed, running the sink, and returning.

“Jaax?” he queried lazily.

“Just went to wash up and get a cloth,” she said, and he felt it cool against him, wiping gently.

“You ‘kay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Jus’ checkin’.” He heard the cloth land on the floor, saw the lights switch off against his eyelids, and felt her pull the blankets up as she curled beside him.

“Sorry I’m no use, after,” he murmured. “Takes a li’l bit.”

“Corso?”

“Mhmm?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, Cap’n.” He reached for her and she came to him willingly, sighing as she settled against him.

Long moments later, Corso’s arms around Jaax’a, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, she murmured, “Thank you, Corso.”

He kissed the top of her head and she heard the smile in his voice, deep and soft with satisfaction. “Anythin’, Jaax’a. Anythin’ for you.”

Sleep finally took them, and there they remained well through the next day, tangled in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, my beloved readers, for putting up with my endless drawing this out. Nope, we ain't done yet. ;)


	20. Admission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Halloween treat... :)

Jaax’a woke to an overwhelming contentment rolling through her veins and the unexpectedly luxurious feeling of sheets against her bare skin. She knew, immediately, that the bare chest she was curled against was Corso’s; she breathed and smiled as his scent filled her lungs. She could pick him out of a room, now, on scent alone. He was spicy and masculine and rich earth and strong arms and all hers, she knew.

She noticed as she mused that their legs were laced together, his arms linked loosely around her. He slept on as he held her, chest rising and falling steadily, radiating heat and keeping her warm. One of his dreads had fallen across his face and was fluttering as he exhaled. She smiled at the normalness of it all.

She’d never had the chance to watch him sleep like this; he’d always been injured, after taking hits for her, usually, and she’d stand guard while he healed in a kolto haze, his face resigned and marked with discomfort. Now she saw what she’d missed. His merry eyes were soft, not tensed, and his lips were ever so slightly curved, as if he smiled in his sleep. She found herself wanting to see him, all of him, to follow the scattering of hair across his muscled chest and down, to trace his shoulders and spine and feel his body flex and move beneath her hands. She flushed as she remembered traces of last night, his determination to shatter her and willingness to ignore his needs for her own. Her Corso.

She felt her blood thinning and heating, heart pounding a little harder, and forced herself to breathe. She licked her lips and found her mouth dry for more reasons than thirst. Recognizing the wisdom of a glass of water, though, she carefully set about extricating herself from Corso’s arms, silently apologizing as he shifted and frowned in his sleep. She closed the ‘fresher door with a tiny click and eased the light on, squinting until her eyes adjusted.

 _Boy, am I a sight,_ she thought, seeing herself in the mirror. Steel-gray hair stuck up every which way, sheets had left thin red lines against her pale skin, and a bit of Tatooine sunburn stopped where her jacket started at the base of her neck. She grabbed the cup by the sink, filled it, downed the contents, and reached for lotion, rubbing it into the sunburn. The rush of water into her stomach wakened her bladder, unsurprisingly. Needs attended to, she attempted to flatten the wayward spikes of her hair, gave up, and drank another cup of water. She opened the door and stepped out, feeling awkward in her nakedness and hoping Corso was still asleep. He wasn’t.

Their eyes met. She stilled, halfway between the ‘fresher door and the bed, and held her breath. He looked at her, sitting up in bed, blinking slowly as he woke, and his eyes traveled over her body, lingering over her hips and beneath her shoulders, the dim light from the fresher highlighting her shape. Jaax’a quashed the need to either cover herself or run back in the ‘fresher and forced herself to exhale.

“You’re beautiful,” Corso said after a moment, his voice hoarse from sleep. His eyes were clear as he caught her gaze and held it. “So beautiful.”

She had absolutely no idea why--she later blamed exhaustion and hormones, though it wasn’t the first time he’d told her--but tears sprang to her eyes. Corso’s eyebrows lifted in alarm and he hopped clumsily out of bed, hitting the light panel as he did, hurrying towards her. “I... how can... Corso..."

He slid his arms around her, tucking her against him as she scrubbed at her face, tears ebbing as quickly as they came. He rubbed her back, a corner of his mind telling his rather-more-awake lower half to cut it out. After a long moment, she pulled far enough away to look up at him. “Nobody’s ever said that to me... not like you do. You mean it.”

“Jaax’a, I could never lie t’you. And even if I could... definitely not this early.”

She chuckled wetly and sniffed. “Late, probably.”

“Who cares.” His voice cracked. “I need water."

“Cup in the ‘fresher,” she said. He smiled and kissed her forehead, disappearing through the door as he shut it behind him. Suddenly her skin grew chilled; the room was cool without his warmth. She slipped back into bed, laying in the warm hollow where his body had been.

A few minutes later he reappeared, looking more awake. He wasn’t hesitant as he crossed the expanse of floor stark naked. She let her eyes roam over him and he smiled at her. “Look all y’like, sweetheart,” he said. “Not like you didn’ see it las’ night.” His accent was stronger, lilting.

“Not... as much as I’d like,” she said.

He crawled on the bed and lounged on top of the blankets, hands behind his head. “Take your time, then.”

“Somebody’s not shy,” she said, tugging at the blanket to loosen it as she scooted closer.

“Run around with military men, you get used to going starkers,” he replied, staring at the ceiling and trying to keep calm. Any effort was shattered, though, as she touched him, her fingers tracing the curves of his muscles, the thick veins running up his arm suspended by muscle, the scars from weapons that had cut through weakened armor. Her hands lingered over the damage he’d taken from the pirate assault cannon for her, skin pitted and marked, the muscle beneath ropy, not smooth. His eyes closed and he focused on breathing, particularly as her hands eased down his sides, thumbs smearing over his taut belly. His breath caught as one cool finger traced his navel and skimmed back to his side, gliding in the curve left by toned muscle. He felt her eyes on him, skating past the dip of muscle along the crest of his hipbone, lingering further below the thick thatch of brown curls. The tell-tale feeling of his heart pounding, head lightening, and nerves tingling between his legs let him know his attempts at calm had failed. He cracked an eyelid, glancing at her.

She was trying to hide a smile, lips twitching, and he looked down to see evidence of his arousal rapidly making itself apparent. _Very_ rapidly. Impressive, really. He sighed, resigned. “Good mornin’?”

Jaax’a laughed outright and beckoned; he crawled under the blankets with her and she sighed happily. “You’re so _warm._ It’s wonderful.”

“Glad t’be of service,” he replied, tucking his nose against her neck and breathing deeply. They laid together for a long moment, basking in contentment. “You _are_ beautiful, y’know,” he murmured into her skin, leaving a kiss for emphasis.

“You might be biased.”

“I got no problem with that.” He let his fingers skim over her smooth, creamy skin, gently cupping a breast and thumbing the tip; it tightened and she shivered.

“Mmm... me neither.”

The difference between her hesitance the night before and her demeanor this morning was marked. A lingering sense of anxiety peaked here and there, but something had broken the links to the past that kept her powerless. She realized, belatedly, that she’d trusted Corso with her body for months; he’d had her back ever since he’d joined her on Ord Mantell--before, really. He linked herself to her when he’d given her Flashy. Not purposefully--the gift had no strings attached--but he’d kept her safe even without his quietly resolute physical presence. He’d stood watch for rakghouls and manka cats while they’d camped in the wilds of Taris and Alderaan, kept his back resolutely turned as she’d splashed naked in freezing streams, and protected her with his body on more than one occasion. She knew his broken ribs from Taris still bothered him in the cold and after nights on hard ground. He’d rescued her after that mission on Tatooine had gone pear-shaped and had been there, unflinching, through the days it took for her to get back on her feet, catching her when she’d grow dizzy, holding a bowl or helping her to the ‘fresher when the nausea caught up to her. Her head still rang occasionally from that concussion; he had an uncanny sense about it and was always there to offer tablets to ease the ache or, if they were alone and the night was quiet, to rub her temples and neck with his strong hands.

It was no great leap, then, to shuck her physical armor, let her clothes fall, and meet him skin to skin.

Her chest ached as she recalled how he’d gone about wooing her, slowly, carefully, never pushing, always steadfast when her past assaulted her; he’d done the same last night, bringing her body to beg him for release, to crave him now as she thought about it. There was no resistance when he reached for her, even in the nooks and crannies of her brain that never let their guard down. She molded to him as he pulled her close, protecting her, as he always did.

She realized, then, that he loved her. Wholly, entirely, unflinchingly. He’d shown her tirelessly the depths of his capability to embrace all of her with himself, with who he was, and she saw it was there she’d found what she needed to truly, finally, _heal_. He’d given her back her ability to trust without even knowing it. Another knowledge suddenly weighed like duracrete within her heart, needing to come out, and she was oddly unsurprised by its presence there. It felt like it belonged.

She tipped her chin up. “Corso?”

He blinked and looked down at her, a smile playing on his lips, his eyes fond. “Jaax?”

She took a breath, steadying her voice as best she could, and jumped in without preamble. “Corso... I love you.”

He stared back at her for a long moment, long enough for her chin to tremble and her breath to hitch. Then he kissed her, hard, his arms pulling her flush against him; he released her lips and tucked his head against hers, his lips brushing her ear, then across her forehead, her nose, each cheek, before he spoke. His voice shook and his eyes were bright. “Stars, Jaax’a, you have no idea how long I’ve waited t’hear you say it.”

She smiled tentatively and he closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, love. I’ve been sayin’ _I love you_ in silence for so long, I guess... old habits?”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When did you know?”

He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “For sure? On Alderaan, after Tatooine--the first time. When you got yanked away from me... when we found you, like you were...” He shuddered. “It nearly broke me. Ask your brother.”

Jaax’a felt light, as if her blood were carbonated, fizzing pleasantly beneath her skin. She slid her hands up to hold his face and smiled. He returned it, then leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered to her lips. _Finally._

“I love you,” she replied, giddy, and kissed him. He responded eagerly and their mouths suddenly turned hungry, his tongue flicking out to slide against her lower lip. His body had calmed during the long interlude that they’d laid together while Jaax’a’s mind wandered; it wakened again quickly, throbbing, his pulse sending more blood south than north. Jaax’a hummed as she felt evidence of said awakening against her thigh and hitched her hips forward and against him.

Corso rolled on to his back and tugged her with him, pausing to pull the blanket up to cover her. His hands slid to her bare back, smoothing down to her hips, then moving up again, his fingers curling to gently drag the edges of his nails up her spine. She shivered and hummed, rubbing her nose against his. He repeated the action and she dropped her head forward and down against his shoulder, exposing her neck to his lips. He kissed and nibbled along her skin as he alternately rubbed and scratched her back where she hadn't realized she itched. Like a cat, she arched up against his hands until she relaxed down against his body, humming. He flattened his fingers and skimmed them down her body to her lower back, then let them move more firmly over the taut muscle of her ass and thighs, sliding back up to cup her lower body against him. He’d long admired the rear view he often had of her in her tight leggings; having his hands on the skin beneath was deeply satisfying to his male psyche, and he smiled, a little noise turning in his throat.

“Like that, huh?” she murmured to him; he squeezed her in response and she kissed him. His hands abandoned her lower body to hold her close and tangle in her hair, slow kisses turning to tugs on her lower lip and tongues sliding together. Slowly she pulled away and rolled off him, though her body immediately protested the loss of contact. He glanced over at her, propping himself up on his side, and waited for a long moment. She seemed shy about something, having trouble trying to put it into words.

“Just ask, love,” he said, reaching for her hand. She caught his and guided it towards her breast.

“Could you...?”

“Never have to ask me twice,” he said, grinning, and bent his head to her chest; he was quickly rewarded with her tiny noises of delight and her hands in his dreadlocks, fingertips rubbing circles on his scalp. He was more confident, more willing to suckle harder and nip gently at the sensitive skin. She gasped and whined as he bit, then blew cool air over the hard peaks, wiggling and huffing when he traced his nose and lips infuriatingly around each areola without giving in to what she wanted. Each nibble sent little electric sparks along her skin, each long kiss both soothed and strengthened the knot winding in her belly.

Long minutes later, she was panting heavily and limp against the bed, her chest and face flushed. He smiled up at her when she glanced down at him. He left a long kiss in the valley between her breasts and scooted up to lay beside her again.

“Corso?”

“Mmm?” He was practically purring, his voice deep and rumbling with desire, unable to be still as he brushed his lips over her skin, drew circles with his nose.

“We... never really got around to the big event last night.”

He nuzzled her shoulder and she giggled. “I dunno ‘bout you, Jaax, but I was pretty happy.”

She tried to say something, but a fit of the giggles got the best of her. He arched an eyebrow at her, mimicking her usual expression, waiting out her laughter. “What ‘xactly’s so funny?”

She calmed enough to speak. “Happy... ending?”

He buried his face in her shoulder; between the erratic breath against her skin and his shaking shoulders she knew he was laughing, too. “I’ll get you fer that,” he muttered.

“Don’t get me wrong, Corso, last night was... amazing. But...”

Corso shifted so he could see her face. His expression was sober. “Jaax, we have all the time in the galaxy. Don’t hurry ‘cause of me.”

She looked thoughtful. “I... whatever it was that kept me... remembering... it’s like it’s gone. Last night... I was able to forget about it. To be with you. With you are the only times I’ve slept without dreaming about it. And...” She glanced down between them, where their bodies were flush, his proud erection nudging between her thighs. “Before--that scared me. You... it... there. Now, I... I just want you. Badly.”

Corso nosed gently along the soft skin of her neck, kissing, nibbling at the spot that made her whimper; she obliged him, noise quivering low in her throat, her hands gripping the skin nearest to them. He paused and sighed. “Stars know I want you, Jaax. Have for a good long time. I love you. But I want it to be perfect, and...”

“It won’t be,” she said, heart still thrilling at the sound of the three little words he’d said.

“I know.” She wondered briefly if he would back down; a twitch against her leg, though, made her think otherwise. “I swore I’d protect you, take care of you. And... I don’t know that I can, with this.”

"I can take care of myself, you know." She paused. “Thing is, you already have.”

She felt him smile against her skin. “Guess I have, at that.”

“Make love to me?” she asked again.

He pulled back to look at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation; he found none. “Always,” he whispered as his heart soared, covering her lips with his own.


	21. Come Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, finally, the wait is over.
> 
> _He pulled back to look at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation; he found none. “Always,” he whispered as his heart soared, covering her lips with his own._

Adrenaline hit Jaax’a hard. She was suddenly reminded of the first time she’d executed a perfect barrel roll, her stomach gritting against the g-forces. One of Corso’s trademark “Whoooooeee!”s popped into her brain; he always shouted like that when they flew with a squadron.

Corso. Oh, Corso. Her blood swirled and she fought to focus her attention on him, giving up when he kissed her, bonding his skin to hers in a searing flash of heat. The throb began, low beneath her navel, buried in the nerves that raced between her thighs.

As he kissed her, touched her, let his hands roam over her skin, she felt an ache that had been missing for so long it was unfamiliar again. It took a moment for her to register it. Arousal, not just superficial, but deep in her core. Not just desire--but an ache at the accompanied emptiness where her body wanted to be filled. She let herself moan against his lips and felt his cock, stiffening lazily against her thigh, twitch and grow in response.

He wrenched his mouth away from hers, panting, his eyes dark. “I love you,” he murmured to her, then kissed her again, hard, and moved to her breasts, kissing and nibbling, suckling and driving her wild.

She was about to help him further down her body when he went there himself, kissing and nipping a trail down her skin, encouraging her legs to open so he could lay between them. Slow, measured tastes of her had her writhing; he lapped at her clit, teasing it, and she whined his name in monosyllables.

He paused and she propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at him. He glanced up, then hazarded a guess. “Has it… been a while?”

She nodded. “Couple years.”

“Mmm.” He licked slowly upwards over her clit, flicking his tongue, and she tensed, hissing. Then his tongue dove between her folds, working at her entrance; her elbows gave out beneath her as he somehow managed to rub his nose just so over her clit at the same time, twin sensations too much for her to handle. After a long moment, one of his fingers slid in and out, gently, and his mouth went back to teasing her clit. Another finger joined and she sighed, tossing her head back and forth, whining quietly.

“Talk t’me,” he said between tastes of her. “This okay?”

“Fine,” she managed, jerking as he found a sensitive spot. He rubbed again and her hips twitched upward of their own accord; he did it yet again, combining it with a flick of his tongue over her clit, and she mewled and tugged on his hair. After a long moment he slowed his gentle thrusts and eased in a third finger. She felt a stretch that wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

“Slow,” she told him, and he rocked his fingers, running their tips over the sensitive spot inside her, his tongue swirling lazily over her clit, no longer trying to drive her to climax but to draw her out. Her body relaxed, inner walls slowly loosening around his fingers, and the tightening knot low in her belly eased, her pleasure smoother, not peaking so sharply it was almost too much to bear.

“Another?” he asked.

“Okay,” she whispered, a little nervous, reminding herself to breathe.

He did the same thing, letting her body bunch his fingers together to fit inside her, then slowly beginning to rock them in and out while he teased her clit. The stretch was more painful, but it ebbed as he coaxed whines and soft moans from her with his hand and mouth; soon she was rocking her hips against him, wanting more than his fingers could give.

He slid his fingers out and sat up. “You don’t happen t'have any lube, do you?”

She smiled. “I do, actually. In the drawer, there.”

“Thinkin’ ahead?” He scooted off the bed and reached for the drawer, finding a couple of small towels and the promised bottle.

“Sometimes a girl’s gotta blow off steam, you know,” she replied, her voice flirtatious, and his cock jumped.

“You’re gonna kill me, tellin' me stuff like that,” he replied, crawling back on the bed to lay beside her, towel and lube in hand. He flipped up the lid on the bottle and squeezed some into his hand, taking his cock into his hand carefully, nostrils flaring as he exhaled while he stroked the lube on to himself. She watched intently, her eyes gone dark. He offered her the bottle.

“You do it?” She smiled, coy.

“Imma dead man walkin’,” he muttered to himself, squeezing lube onto his fingers and coating her with it; she wiggled. He squeezed more onto his index and middle fingers and tucked them inside her arousal-slicked core, taking the opportunity to rub her clit again with his thumb. She whimpered and Corso shook his head, smiling, then reached for the towel to wipe his hand off.

Suddenly he paused. “Kriff. Synthskin?”

“I have an implant,” she said, "if you're clean?" Corso nodded and blew out his breath. He made a mental note to get an implant for himself the next time they were by a major medcenter, just to be safe, and shook his head to clear it, getting back to the woman in his arms.

 _Beneath_ him in his arms. Naked. Eager and waiting. He took a deep breath. “Would you rather be on top?”

She shook her head. “I want to feel all of you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said, and cut off any response by kissing her as he eased his body over hers, resting on his elbows and knees, slowly settling his hips against her. Her body cradled his, her hips taking his weight easily; she widened her legs so he could rest between them. She was quivering and he knew he wasn’t steady, either, caught in a heady mix of desire and love and... well, a little bit of performance anxiety, if he was honest with himself.

He kissed her, heart racing. “I love you, Jaax. So much.”

“I love you, too, Corso,” she whispered. “ _Please._ ”

He shifted his weight onto his left elbow and reached between them, thumb rubbing over her clit; she moaned softly, chest heaving.

 _Here goes nothin_ _’,_ he thought, and with two fingers guided the tip of his aching cock to her center. She inhaled sharply as the silky-slippery wetness of his bare skin slipped between her outer lips and tucked just inside her. He shifted his hand back up so his thumb could circle her clit again, hoping he could distract her from what he figured would be a somewhat uncomfortable beginning, despite his preparations. As he gently pushed against her, she threaded her fingers in his dreads and tugged his face to hers.

“Breathe,” he murmured to her; she was close to hyperventilating. She nodded, swallowed, and sucked in a slow breath.

As his body slid in to hers, fraction by fraction, he kissed her reverently, his lips capturing her cries as her body accepted his.

 

“Breathe.”

Jaax’a obeyed. She wanted him desperately, but she was nervous; it was almost like her first time all over again, and Corso was no slouch in the size department.

She figured he knew it, given how he was gently working her clit and easing in slowly, pausing every so often to rock out and back a few times, and by how he was kissing her, so sweetly, lovingly, ardently that she couldn’t help but kiss him back.

“You okay?” he asked between kisses, nose brushing hers affectionately.

“Yeah,” she murmured, kissing him again. His body inside hers was a stretch, but not entirely unpleasant; his careful work with his fingers had eased her open enough that she could stay relaxed. “Hang on?” He paused and she shifted her hips beneath him, tilting. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath, sweat beading across his brow, and continued easing his way in, rocking against her tight muscles, sliding further as they relaxed. She rolled her hips a bit against him, and Corso rumbled low in his chest as finally, excruciatingly, he slid home, his body flush against hers. The ache in her lower belly eased, full, then intensified, demanding _more_ , if that was possible. She rolled her hips up experimentally and moaned at the sensation, her head pressed back against the pillows. His voice joined hers. “Jaax’a... stars...”

She had little idea of what she wanted, only that she wanted it, so badly she was overwhelmed. She had long ago mastered the art of exceptionally effective flirting but, contrary to what it seemed, had not taken many men (or women) up on the offers that inevitably followed, and the few attempts she’d made after her assault had left her convinced she was somehow broken. Perhaps she had been, but if she was, Corso had been her glue, mending the hurts in her soul she had only been able to patch. Somehow, she didn’t feel threatened by his body intruding into hers, and the pain she’d previously gone out of her way to avoid was almost pleasantly adding to the experience. _If there are soulmates in this galaxy,_ she thought, not for the first time, _I think I_ _’ve found mine._

“Please,” she whined, panting, “please...” He slowly began to ease himself out; her inner muscles quaked, grabbing at his cock, and he hissed and slid back in. Slowly, after some experimenting, they found a rhythm, Jaax’a hitching one leg up over Corso’s hips for leverage as he balanced over her on both elbows. They moved together slowly, Corso taking care to ease himself into her depths with each thrust, kissing gently, briefly, connecting in as many ways as possible, unable to get enough contact despite being joined in the most intimate of ways.

“Oh, Corso,” she whispered, smiling, one hand on his face, thumb crossing his cheek. Their eyes met and for a long moment their rocking hips nearly stilled, just gently rolling against each other. Jaax’a had tears in her eyes; one spilled over, and Corso kissed it away. “Corso... stars, it feels so good.”

He began to thrust again, gently, and her eyes fluttered and breath hitched. “So good, baby,” he echoed softly. “Oh, fuck.”

“I love you,” she whispered, gasping as he thrust up into her again.

“Me too, darlin’,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment before he kissed her and stroked her core a little more firmly, finding a moan in response.

The soft sounds of their bodies joining became background as Jaax’a mumbled, whined, keened and moaned, occasionally using words or Corso’s name, just as often stringing vowels together unintelligibly. He was quieter but she could feel him humming, vibrating against her, containing his energy to coil behind each thrust. The sheer intimacy of the act was overwhelming. Sex had never been like this for her before, never so deeply meaningful, never drawing her emotions up from some unknown wellspring into flaring life, never so  _real_ and so  _there_ and so  _amazing_. Oh, stars.  _Amazing._ Pleasure bubbled through her, escaping from every pore, filling her lungs.

“Corso,” she murmured to him between pants, “Corso, please, _fuck,_ Corso, Corso--”

“Yeah, Jaax,” he replied to her, breath coming hard and fast as he upped his pace to stroke her firmly, her passage having opened to accommodate him completely, slick and hot and all crimson velvet against his cock. “Oh, Jaax, yes.”

For Corso, it was like coming home; nothing had felt so right in his life. Sure, he’d had sex before, spent enough quality time with women older than he who were willing to teach an eager young man how to make a lady’s body sing, and it had been more than enjoyable, but this was something entirely different. This was _more_. He’d never quite understood the difference between a good fuck and making love, until now, until Jaax’a. His world had shrunk to the woman in his arms, who’d tangled her body around his, entrusting herself entirely to him, whose expression of sheer pleasure-bordering-on-ecstasy because of _him_ was enough of a turn on to fuel his fantasies for months. Hell, her scent alone was nearly enough to put him over the edge if he focused on it for too long. He’d waited and waited, knowing once he knew of her past misfortunes that, ultimately, it was going to have to be her to initiate this combustion between them. She was worth it; she was _his,_ dammit, no matter how resistant she might claim to be about being protected. Protected was just a code word, anyway. He’d meant _loved_. He’d meant it all along.

He was tossed out of his reverie when she hitched her other leg around him between thrusts, meeting him pulse for pulse, and her body arched hard against his, her eyes squeezing shut as she gasped. “Corso--are you-- _oh_ don’t stop--”

He recognized her expression, felt her body starting to clamp erratically around him; her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders and held him tight. “You gonna come for me, baby?” he murmured to her, teeth closing around her earlobe.

“Yes-- _oh yes_...” She tugged her hips to his, almost suspending herself off the bed with her limbs wrapped around his torso, and he slid in at a different angle, rubbing her channel a little differently, and her legs held him flush to her for a long moment, his hips straining to go deeper, his cock reaching towards the knot of pleasure building deep in her womb. Her breath left her lungs in an airy whine of desperation. Unable to go further in, he hitched his hips forward once, twice, getting little bolts of delicious friction shocking through his nerves and hers. Her body reacted, spasming hard, her stomach clenching and breath hitching. “ _Oh..._ ” Corso tugged delicately on her ear, then moved to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, where she had a particularly sensitive spot. He let his lips drag over it, his breath skating over her skin. She whimpered and her arms softened, her body conflicted, building pressure.

She was lost to him until her eyes opened and met his for a long moment; then she pulled his head down and kissed him, mouths open, tongues mimicking their bodies, quick and messy, frantic, and suddenly she stiffened, keening, “Corso, Corso, _Corso_ ,” and her head fell back and she cried out his name again and came _hard_ around him, her eyes fluttering as stars crashed and bloomed, her body convulsing, shuddering, shattering.

Her orgasm broke her grip on his hips and his measured control, driving his body to pump quick and fast, gliding smoothly on the rush of hot slickness that covered his cock. “Jaax! Oh, Jaax, _fuck--_ ” Three hard thrusts later Corso spasmed, groaning, his body spilling deeply into hers, every muscle pulsating in time to tug against her and extend his orgasm; as she finally fell limp he quivered, his head hanging, body heaving and gasping for air, his arms barely able to keep him from falling on her. He was dizzy and his vision was nearly blank, and when he could see again, she was blinking slowly, trying to come back to him, bathed in sweat and sex-flushed as far as he could see and he kissed her, lazily, and whispered against her lips, “I love you.”

She smiled, opened her eyes, and said the same thing in reply.

He didn’t want to leave her, despite the fact that he was softening and there was about to be a sticky mess on the blankets if he didn’t grab the towel that was just out of reach. There was something incredibly intimate about how her body cradled his, from her hips and belly supporting his to how her sex-slicked, quivering core still held his sated cock. He felt somewhat differently about how he’d marked her, not only on her shoulder with his teeth but deep inside with his seed. He added their combined arousal and said aftereffects to the list of scents currently lingering on her skin, and decided he didn’t care if she had anything to say about it, that after this, there was no arguing that she was _his._

There was a completely possessive side of him that crowed proudly at that. He sighed, shot it an internal glare, and eased off her. He hissed as her core twitched around him as he left her and she moaned softly at the loss of contact. He reached for the towel and quickly swiped it over his prick before tucking it beneath her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, closed eyes soft, cheeks rosy and lips smiling, still flooded with the aftermath of her orgasm. As soon as he relaxed, the same feeling rushed through his own veins, claiming him. He dozed off, limp, just barely noticing when she tucked herself closer to him and tugged the blankets up, knowing that he felt complete only when she was in his arms.


	22. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, but I am hard at work on the next planet, so you'll have more soon!

It was late afternoon when they finally stirred. Corso slid out of bed first and she smiled sleepily at him; he looked at her fondly, reaching out to touch her cheek, before disappearing into the 'fresher. The sound of water running made her realize she still hadn't showered and that it was really quite necessary, though the need for water was more urgent. She got up and tapped on the fresher door. "Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure thing."

She opened the door and closed it behind her to keep the humid warmth inside, then filled a cup at the sink and drank, the cool water coursing down her dry throat and relieving the roughness in her voice. Corso was in the shower, washing up. She was slightly shy about being in the ‘fresher with him like this, though he didn’t seem bothered. This kind of intimacy was new; it was the familiarity of long contact and contentment in each other that only built over time—which they’d had, after all. "Don't use up all my water, farmboy," she said, smiling. "We are on Tatooine."

"We could save some, y'know," he said, teasing back.

"Oh?"

He stepped forward into the water. "Come in."

So she did, and he beckoned, sliding his almost too-warm body around her. She leaned into his touch and the want that she hadn't realized had filled her skin eased as their bodies molded around each other under the hot spray.

The searing desire that had driven them both had been slaked, for now, and they touched each other only for the joy of touch, how hands felt against sleek, wet skin, how their bodies felt together, fit together, and Jaax'a sighed in contentment as she rested her cheek against his chest, forehead against his neck. Corso practically purred with happiness, everything feeling like it had finally settled in to place at last with her twined around him, water cascading gently over them.

After several minutes she straightened and smiled at him, reached for the soap and lathered her hands; he reached up and squeezed his dreads, letting water run out of them and over his back. He stepped to the back of the shower, out of the spray, and leaned against the wall and watched her hands slide soap suds over her skin, over her breasts, under her arms, then with clean hands eased her fingers between her legs to encourage water to clean her there, turning to rinse the soap from her back and the cleft of her buttocks. She shampooed her hair, fragrant cleanser stripping the dirt from it and leaving it a gleaming steel gray once again.

"You like watching me, huh?" she asked as she threaded her fingers through her hair under the spray, rinsing thoroughly.

"That obvious?"

"Yes, actually," she said, and glanced down pointedly. He followed her eyes and laughed; she was right.

"Good a lie detector as any," he said, smiling, and she shook her head as she turned off the water. "Let me get you a towel." He took the one hanging on the hook and quickly ran it over himself, then stepped out and opened her cabinet, pulling out another towel and bringing it to her in the shower. His comfort in his own skin was enough to relax any of her insecurity and she toweled off, then tossed the towel over her head to dry her hair. His eyes fixed on her breasts and his breathing became a little ragged; they jiggled quite attractively as she rubbed her hair dry. "Down, boy," he muttered to himself, and wrapped the towel around his waist. She chuckled at his comment, her eyes glittering as she smiled at him when her head emerged from beneath the towel.

“Remind me why I ever thought you were some shy farmboy?”

“I did kinda tell you I was one, remember?”

“Well, trying to come on to me while thoroughly tipsy—“ Corso pulled a face; she grinned—“and then backtracking before you even let me say anything didn’t much improve that reputation.”

Corso tucked the towel in at his waist and pulled her close, his arms around her lean waist. “Farmboy though I might be, darlin’, I reckon we’re a little past the shy part.” She laughed; her bare breasts were pressed against his broad, still-damp chest and an easily identified bit of his anatomy was nudging her through his towel. He smiled in return and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers, before letting her go and picking up the hair tie he’d left on her ‘fresher counter, pulling his dreads back with practiced ease.

She moved to her drawers and pulled out clothes; Corso sighed. "Forgot about that. Really don't want to put those back on." He glanced at the snug bodygloves he wore underneath his armor, stiff with sweat and dirt where they had been discarded.

"Want me to go get something for you?"

"Nah. I can prob’ly sneak in. Doubt they’re here, anyway." He wrapped the towel more firmly around his waist and tucked it in. "Wish me luck?" He grinned cheekily.

She chuckled and stepped over to him, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips. "Luck," she told him, smiling.

He walked out into the hallway and almost smack-dab into Risha, who was following Bowdaar. The Wookiee stopped and looked back at Risha's startled yelp and barked a laugh. Corso was firmly gripping his towel from where it threatened to slip; he nodded at Risha and departed for the crew quarters before his blush could reach his dreadlocks. Risha glanced through the doorway at Jaax'a, who had just finished tugging her shirt on, and asked a silent question; Jaax'a tried to hide her grin but failed miserably. Risha laughed and turned to follow Bowdaar to the cargo hold, glad Corso and their captain finally gotten their act together. She'd bug the smuggler about it later. The Wookiee had offered to help her reorganize and she wasn't about to let his impressive strength go to waste.


	23. Port Nowhere to Bugtown

Port Nowhere was, well, a port, boasting only a floating cantina and fueling station, in the middle of nowhere. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly tense when they walked in, but it was… predatory. They didn’t have to wait long for the reason why.

“Captain! Never thought I’d see you here! Thought you were too good for us small-time crooks out here in Port Nowhere. Can I buy you a drink? Get some pointers? I’ve been waitin’ for this for a long time.”

“I’d really rather not.” Corso saw the muscles of Jaax’a’s back twitch as she stared down the unknown smuggler blocking her way, her right hand shaping itself around the grip of an invisible blaster, ready to go for Flashy.

“Actually, I’m not the only one who’s been waiting.” The smuggler pulled out his holocomm and activated it.

_“So... Jaax'a Lannen. I_ _’ve been hearing your name for a while now. Almost as long as you_ _’ve been hearing mine. Rogun. They call me The Butcher. You lost a blaster shipment of mine some time back. And you've never even apologized._ _”_

“Skavak was to blame for that, and he’s dead. Somehow I don't think an apology would make you feel any better.” Jaax’a’s voice was flat, her tone lending room to zero question.

_“Plenty of blame to go around. I_ _’m generous like that. And you_ _’re not running away, this time. My men have your hangar locked down tight._ _”_

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Her jaw twitched. “Sounds like a fun fight.”

“That’s right, Butcher,” Corso said, rolling his shoulders, stretching his neck, knowing what came next. “And it’s not just the Captain. Me an’ Sparky are here, too.”

“ _Open season it is, then. A hundred thousand credits to the man who brings me that pretty head,_ _”_ Rogun said over the holo.

“Done deal, boss,” said the lackey, and pocketed his comm before drawing his blaster. The sounds of easily twenty others coming out of holsters, vibroshivs snicking, heavy blades sliding free ticked around the room.

“Well, well,” Jaax’a muttered as she raised Flashy and met the lackey’s eyes, then let her own look at her pistol appraisingly, sliding lovingly over the barrel. “Look what we have here.”

“Uh, Jaax? Maybe not such a good idea.” Corso’s voice was slightly strangled.

“Hush, dear,” she said dryly, and he had only a moment of being alarmed before her shot dropped the lackey in a crumpled heap and the cantina exploded with the sound of blaster fire.

After, cleanup droids shuttling bodies into what she could only assume was an airlock, Corso crossed his arms and stared at her. “What was that about?”

She looked at him. He barely recognized her; then her expression shifted back to one he knew. “What do you mean?”

He realized she probably didn’t. “You… do this… _thing_ when you gotta fight like that.”

“Dishonestly? After gettin’ stabbed in the back?” She glanced meaningfully up at where she presumed Darmas Pollaran still waited.

“Yeah.”

She was silent for awhile as she sealed a kolto patch over a burn on her forearm, looking Corso over thoroughly, and flapping a hand at him when she saw how he fumbled putting Sparky away. He tugged off his glove and unsnapped the bracers that covered his forearm, rolling up the stretchy bodyglove. "Elbow?" she asked, softly, and he nodded. She tugged off her gloves, tucking them between her knees, and rubbed kolto gel into the joint, then wrapped it with a length of support tape before helping him straighten his sleeve and replace his armor before stowing her medpack and pulling her gloves back on.

“Gotta hide, somehow,” she said, quietly, in response to his earlier question, and the mask settled over her again. Corso decided it was a necessary evil, at least for now, and followed her out of the cantina, determined to find a way to free her of it, someday.

They found Darmas Pollaran and another woman—shortly to be introduced to them as Senator Dodonna of the Galactic Republic—imprisoned nearby.

“It’s a good thing you’re prompt, Captain, or I’d be a dead man,” Darmas said. “Rogun’s men showed up the moment I cut the link.”

“I hear you stopped them singlehandedly. I wouldn’t want your life, Captain, but it’s a thrill to watch.”

“What’s a Senator want with someone like you, Pollaran?” Jaax’a asked, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been investigating how the Republic can make better use of… independent-minded soldiers of freedom,” Dodonna said.

“Which is why Rogun tried to shut us down. He’s an Imperial lackey—answers directly to Imperial Command.”

“This isn’t that guy, is it? The slaver with the stupid name?”

“The Voidwolf, right? Is that who Rogun’s fetching for?” Corso supplied.

“Rogun’s one of his biggest assets,” Darmas confirmed.

“The ol’ Butcher’s not gonna be around much longer,” Jaax’a muttered, and Corso grinned.

“I believe you,” Darmas said.

“And, if you accept my offer, you won’t have to take him on alone,” added Dodonna. “The Republic is looking for men and women of action… patriots without the restriction of a trooper’s uniform. How would you like a commission from the Senate, authorizing you as a privateer naval captain?”

“Go where I want, kill bad guys and be the hero? Sure.”

“Then I hereby swear you in as a servant of the Republic, privateer.”

“She doesn’t know you too well, does she? The captain’s never been anyone’s servant.” Corso chuckled, and Jaax’a couldn’t help but flash him a smile.

“It’s a straightforward deal. We give you targets, cargo, the job we need done, and all the support we can convertly provide. In return we… look the other way about any laws you break or any private gains you make along the way. Our top target right now is Balmorra. One of the most likely hot spots for war to be declared.”

“What can I do?”

“We need someone to go behind enemy lines and divert a payload of prototype weapons into our hands, not the Empire’s.”

Suddenly alarm bells blared. Someone shouted from the bridge. “It’s the Voidwolf! They’re all around us!”

Darmas turned to Dodonna, then Jaax’a. “Get out of here, back to Coruscant. You, back to your ship. I’ll try to jump this whole tub before they get any closer.”

Jaax’a left without a word, sprinting to their hangar, Corso hard on her heels. Risha and Bowdaar had the ship thrumming as they hurtled to the ramp; as soon as the hatch was sealed, the freighter started turning, and soon as hangar bay shield opened, the freighter sped out and into hyperspace. 

 

Bowdaar had just taken Corso’s place at the helm en route to Balmorra, kicking the man off the bridge, when Corso realized his feet were taking him to Jaax’a’s cabin, not the crew’s. He stopped, knowing he wanted to stay with Jaax’a, knowing he really didn’t want to sleep alone in his single-person bunk, but the captain had gone to bed and he didn’t want to wake her. She’d said good night to him on her way and nothing more.

 _Is this just about_ _… sex?_ he thought, worry burrowing its way into his stomach. _It sure didn_ _’t_ feel _just about sex. But_ _… unless she_ _’s lyin_ _’, she loves me. Stars know I love her. If I sleep in my bed and she_ _’s waitin_ _’ for me, then_ _… but if I go in and she_ _’s not waitin_ _’ for me_ _… oh, kriff._

He checked his chrono. It hadn’t been all that long ago that she’d said she was going to bed; she might still be awake, and it wasn’t wrong either here or back on Ord to knock to say and maybe kiss goodnight, was it? So he knocked, cringing at how loud and hesitant it sounded in the hallway, and was deliberating on whether to leave when the door opened.

“It wasn't locked, you know,” she said quietly, waving him in when he hesitated. She looked tired, her robe tied on haphazardly. He wondered immediately if he’d done the wrong thing.

“I’m—sorry, Jaax’a, I was just going to say—“ He stepped in and he realized maybe he was totally overthinking this entire situation when she closed the door behind him. “I just… I at least wanted to… well, kiss you goodnight. That’s all. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” she said, and he somehow doubted that. There was a smile in her eyes, though. “I… could use a kiss goodnight, to be honest.”

There was a long, slightly awkward moment before she stepped towards him and his arms gravitated on their own around her, holding her close. She softened as he bent his head and lifted her chin to meet him. The kiss was gentle, soft, not promising more, and she sighed and leaned against him when it ended. “Corso?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay?”

“O’course, love,” he said, resting his cheek on top of her head, but his worried stomach didn’t settle. They didn’t move, though, and he could feel her wavering against him. “You alright?”

She sighed again. “I don’t know. I just… there’s something not right. Don’t know what it is, but it’s worrying me. There was something not right about that senator.”

“You’ll feel better if you sleep.”

“I don’t, usually, when I feel like this, but… maybe you can help?”

“I’ll sure try,” he said, kissing her forehead.

They moved to the bed, then, Jaax’a shedding her robe and getting back under the blankets in a loose shirt and little else, Corso trying not to look and maintain his calm. When he’d stripped down to his shorts he realized he hadn’t had much luck and sighed. She chuckled. “Sorry if my choice of sleepwear is making things… hard for you.”

He looked at her for a long moment before chuckling, shaking his head; she smiled, eyes twinkling. “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” she murmured as he slid under the blankets beside her. Shortly she was curled around him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Y’know, Jaax,” he said, long minutes later, her breath even and slow. “I’d stay with you every night, if you asked.” He wasn’t sure she was awake to hear him.

She was, though, and she replied, “Maybe I will.”

“I love you,” he said, quietly, the words still new to both of them.

“I love you, too,” she replied, sighing in varieties of relief, nestling closer, and suddenly everything felt right again.

 

Balmorra was, to put it bluntly, not high on Jaax’a’s list of vacation destinations. A few scant hours after landing she and Corso were both covered in splattered goo that had once been inside colicoid exoskeletons, hiking back to Bugtown proper after clearing out a horde of the insects threatening the base. There were sonic showers conveniently located to strip most of the goop off their armor before they went inside, though it was a long shot from being clean. More discussions with higher-ups awaited, and it wasn’t long before they were sent along to the next base to lend their assistance on the battlefield and behind enemy lines.

The skyhop over was tense; the shuttles weren’t exactly safe, prone to being shot out of the sky by Imperial guns, and the assorted battered troops making the trip with them eyed them warily. The Balmorran Arms Factory was next on their list of places to hit, and they were halfway across the battlefield to it when a heavy Imperial supply train forced them to double back and hide, waiting for a safe lull in the action to travel.

“You got me thinking, Corso,” Jaax’a said quietly. “I… when all this nonsense is over and we get back to the _Sunsoarer_ , I’d... I know it hasn’t really been all that long since this got… serious, but… I’d like you to move in to my cabin.”

His head swiveled around to goggle at her before he looked back at the direction he was supposed to be watching, keeping his eyes open for enemies. “Uh—what?”

“You know. Move your stuff in. Use my—well, our ‘fresher. Sleep together. Avoid awkward discussions with Risha. That sort of thing.”

“Not sure it’ll avoid awkward discussions wi’ Risha,” he said, shielding his eyes to avoid the glare as he decided that shadow was a rock, not a droid.

“Well… you won’t have to run back to the crew quarters in a towel anymore. Gotta count for something.”

He chuckled, then stilled. “Ssh.”

They waited, crouched low, until the rustling noises proved to be a local herbivore, who noticed them in the brush, snorted uneasily, and departed, leaving them sprayed with snot. “Can this day get any slimier?” Jaax’a muttered.

“Rontos are worse,” Corso said, sounding almost cheery. “They trample ya before they spit. An’ then they trample ya again.”


	24. Balmorra: Sparring with Imperials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be spoilers and a lot of game dialogue. I tried to mix it up so my lovely readers didn't get toooooo bored. :)

Night fell while they were, rather fortuitously, in the middle of nowhere—that is to say somewhere that was not Empire-controlled, though one could argue that most of the planet was a no-man’s-land. They found themselves a little hollowed-out corner, suitably hidden by brush and rock, and Corso grunted as he eased his body down into the dirt, not even bothering to remove any of his armor.

“You okay?” Jaax’a was looking him over, one eyebrow raised.

“I… ribs, is all.”

“Let me see.”

“No, really, I’m fine.” Jaax’a knelt beside him and made quick work of his chestplate. Her hand ran firmly over his left side. “Jaax, really, I’m just—augh!”

She sighed and flapped a hand at him; he began to unsnap the pieces of armor over his left arm, then slid it out of the bodyglove. She worked the glove up his side to expose livid, colorful bruising and tiny pinpricks of blood that had begun oozing again, now that their scabs had been pulled loose.

“How long’ve you had this?” she asked, her voice tense. She yanked off her gloves impatiently, but her hands were gentle as they gently probed the violent colorations of his skin, seeking out underlying damage.

“Colicoid got me. One of the b-big daddy ones. _Ngh._ ”

“All day? Stars, Corso.” Satisfied that he was whole, just banged up, she pulled a tube of kolto gel out of her pack, flipping open the cap and working the medicine over his skin. The angry bruising began to ease and the tiny perforations closed as she layered the cool gel on, letting it sink in between coats; he tried to stay still and not make too many faces while she worked. Satisfied with the improvement, she stashed the tube. “Let that all dry before you go rubbing your glove and armor over it again.”

They sat quietly, Corso more or less sprawled on the ground, Jaax’a watching the scenery around them. He felt her tension; it was palpable. He knew he’d upset her. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him and sighed. “Corso…”

“I know. I should’ve told you earlier.”

She rubbed her hand over her face. “Corso, it’s not just that I need you whole to cover my ass out here, anymore. It’s…” She swallowed. “I need you. I need you whole because I need… I need _you_. I… does any of that make sense?”

He looked up at her. “Yeah, Jaax, it does. And I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out and she took it. “I don’t suppose there’s any partic’lar reason for me to shuck the rest of this?”

She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. “I don’t know that I want Imps to find us in that compromised a position. We’d never live it down.”

“Whattabout another position?” He winked.

She snorted. “Desperate, are you?”

He smiled as he touched his hand to his side, found it dry, and slid his arm back in to his bodyglove, then began replacing pieces of armor. Jaax’a helped, though she stayed him as he moved to fasten his chestplate on and laid against his good side, head pillowed on his shoulder. “’Fraid I don’t smell too good,” he told her.

“Me neither,” she said, and that was enough, for now.

 

Later, when they were both lying on their backs and stargazing, Jaax’a tilted her head towards his. “So, Riggs. Tell me. If we _were_ to experiment with… compromising positions…”

“You askin’ what kind o’compromisin’ I’d like?”

“Maybe. How do you feel about zero-G?”

He chuckled. “Could be fun, though I’m a bit of a nature boy, y’know.”

“Hm. No sand and nothing prickly.”

He shuddered. “Abso _lutely_ nothin’ prickly. Well, aside from, y’know…” He gestured below his waist; Jaax’a chuckled.

“I’m game.” There was a smile in her voice.

“Really?”

“Long as we’re not being shot at.”

“That’s fair.”

They were silent for a while again, just listening to the wind rustling the brush around them. Occasionally the sounds of ordnance or blaster fire reached them, droids buzzing, anti-aircraft guns shaking the still night. Jaax’a shifted to slip a few of her fingers between Corso’s; he rubbed her fingertips with his thumb in reply. Then a thermal det landed just outside their hideout, _far_ too close for comfort, and dirt and brush exploded over them. They both spat out dirt as they scrambled up with their weapons out. Wordlessly Jaax’a returned the attack, her own det knocking back three of the five Imperials shooting at them. Corso took out another, Torchy whipping across the man’s face; Jaax’a concentrated her fire on a sniper droid, which crumpled.

Suddenly she found herself in close quarters with the Imperial captain who’d led his little group away from the main force. She crushed Flashy across his face, punched him in the gut, kneed him where it hurt and dashed behind him and a few steps back to fire with her scattergun. Corso took the opportunity to fire a precise shot which removed the man’s forehead; Jaax’a saw a gray flicker out of the corner of her eye, spun, and took out the scout struggling to rise, his pistol pointed at Corso. Bodies were strewn across the dirt, blood turning it to mud. The two of them looked at each other, eyes intently searching each other’s body, a habit having taken on a much heavier weight, these days. Corso had a carbon scour marring his armor across one dusty bicep, but looked otherwise unharmed. Her hand didn’t feel so great—she was still barehanded and her heavy punch had clipped the captain’s belt, she guessed. She inspected it in the moonlight and found a pair of split knuckles to show for her handiwork.

“You in one piece?” she asked him as she pawed one-handed through the dirt where she’d been sitting for her medkit, her damaged hand held out of the way, blood running down towards her wrist.

“Yeah. You?”

“Remind me not to hit armor bare-handed. Help me find my gloves?” Her fingers closed around her medkit and she sat on a rock, flipping the case open, and tore open a wipe with her teeth, cleaning the cuts with the antiseptic. She hissed; the combat-ready stuff stung. She folded the wipe and used it to clean up the blood that had trickled down.

He came to her, shaking the dirt from her gloves, and took the adhesive kolto patch she was fumbling to open. “Let me.” He set her gloves on her knee, then looked at her hand. Satisfied it was nothing significant, he peeled the patch open, sealing it over her split knuckles, finishing his ministrations with a gentle kiss over the bandage. It was a little dance they’d done countless times in the dark; neither of them needed light to do a little medic work. She smiled up at him and he brushed his lips against hers, briefly, less a kiss and more just a reminder of her safety.

“Guess we’re not staying here,” she said, clipping her kit to her belt and checking her scattergun was safe and in its holster. She patted Flashy, ever faithful at her hip, and saw Corso had slung his pack into its allotted place on his back. They hiked out of the little dip they’d been hiding in and, twenty minutes’ walk later, found a scorched hull of a skyhopper. It had been there awhile and was thoroughly scavenged. For a few hours’ catnap it was safe enough.

Corso set his pack down and stood behind Jaax’a, letting his arms slide around her, holding her against him. She sighed and leaned her cheek against his, glad to have a moment of peace, and before he let her go he reached down and ran his fingers along Flashy’s barrel, settling his hand over the blaster. “I’m glad she’s keepin’ you safe,” he murmured in her ear. “Snooze a little. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Jaax’a curled up, head pillowed on an emergency blanket and Flashy close to hand, and Corso came to sit beside her; she shifted so that she curved around him, her belly to his back, and he smiled. She dozed off to the feel of his hand tracing aimless patterns on her shoulder and his soft, deep voice humming tunelessly.

 

Numen Brock, their contact on Balmorra, had them on a drop-off and pickup in the Okara Droid Factory.

Needless to say, Corso didn’t much like how the yellow Twi’lek looked at Jaax’a, nor how he flirted shamelessly with her, but he was learning not to let it get to him.

Too much, anyway.

There was someone following them, Jaax’a was sure of it, but that someone was really very good at what they did and blast it, but if she looked over her shoulder any more she’d label herself paranoid. There were Imps back there, too—they were rather more obvious than butter on toast—but there was something _else_.

“You alright?” Corso asked her, under his breath.

“Is the hair on your back doin’ what mine’s doin’?”

“Yup. Wondered if that’s what you were thinkin’.” He slid Torchy out, not going so far as to hunch and look for cover, like Jaax’a was, but he was certainly ready for a surprise.

They got one—to be expected, really—in the form of an Imperial patrol. Jaax’a wasn’t sure what was with the heavily armored, red-skinned Zabrak with an alarming number of facial tattoos standing behind them, but she thought that she might be the _something else_ sending alarm bells up her vertebrae. She didn’t look like Imp material, really, unless Jaax’a _seriously_ missed her guess, which she honestly didn’t think she did, ego or not, because why would a red-skinned Zabrak committing the crime of a, being an alien, and b, being _out of uniform,_ really be an Imp?

“This is Imperial property! Freeze!” Not the Zabrak; the captain with the group. Wearing a floppy little hat instead of an armored helmet like his troopers. And a ridiculous little moustache wriggling across his lip like a furry worm. _Seriously_.

“If I listen, does that mean you won’t shoot me? Cause… that seems kinda out of character.” Jaax’a cocked her head in the opposite direction of her hip and Corso tried really, really hard not to laugh.

“Shut up! Spar, you take point here. Try to take them _alive._ ”

The Zabrak jumped over the pipe that was in her way and approached Jaax’a and Corso, who both had blasters in hand. Corso was preparing for a techstaff to the stomach—the usual leading blow—when the woman called Spar spoke.

“You didn’t say _please._ ”

Indeed she did lead with a blow to the gut—of the Imp behind her, sending him flying over the edge of the landing to hit ground far below with a sickening thud. _Pays to wear a helmet, buddy._

“You want to take out the rest of these idiots? We need to talk… privately.”

 _Well, then,_ Jaax’a thought to herself, hearing Corso chuckle as he holstered Torchy and swept Boom out from over his shoulder. With the addition of Spar, who Jaax’a was pretty sure was Mandalorian, given her armor, the patrol was flattened in short order, and as they all holstered their weapons they turned to face each other.

“I’ll let you take credit here. These aren’t bodies I need on my name,” Spar said, her voice… intriguing. Soft. But all iron. It made Corso want to shiver, and not necessarily in a good way.

“Um, can I ask… who are you?”

“I am Mandalorian. But that does not concern you.” _Ah. Right on the credits._ “I want access to Moff Tyrak, and I’ll pay any price you name to get it.” The iron turned to space-tempered steel.

Jaax’a tapped her fingers along Flashy’s hilt and looked up at Spar from under her lashes, eyes watching the Mandalorian’s face critically for a reaction.

She sighed and put a hand to her forehead. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“That’s a nope.”

“That’s who your delivery is for. Imperial Moff Tyrak. Commander of the Sixty-third Armored Infantry Division. If he’s working for the resistance, I want to know why.”

“Is this a very… _creative_ Imperial plot to learn resistance secrets?”

“If the Empire had ordered me to infiltrate the resistance, I would at least have started with someone who knows her own contact’s name.” _Point one, Mando._ “I am seeking Moff Tyrak for reasons of my own. I will give the Republic all I know of the Empire’s plans here—as payment for Moff Tyrak.”

“I’m not giving up resistance secrets.” Jaax’a put her hand on her hip, where it only had to slide scant inches to Torchy’s grip. Corso nodded approval to both actions.

“You don’t even know what the secret _is_. Find out for yourself who you’re leaving payments for and why. You can contact me later if you decide on a price. For now, I’m going to stay out of sight.”

Spar yanked out what Jaax’a was afraid was a tiny pistol, or perhaps a neural inhibitor, from her belt; it turned out to be a piston-fired grappling hook, which bit into the rocky structure above them. She yanked herself up before moving to dash away—but paused.

“You never told us your name,” Corso called, softly.

She looked at them, archly, before disappearing into shadows. “Akaavi Spar.”


	25. Balmorra: Sobrik

“Akaavi Spar, huh?” Corso muttered as they hiked back to the closest outpost, slodging through mud. “Geesh. Wonder how long she was followin’ us."

“Probably still is, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was close enough to _hear us_ ,” Jaax’a replied, a little louder, and Corso chuckled at the irritation laced through her voice.

They avoided the main routes carrying supply trains and patrolling war droids and kept to the muddy plain, stealthing through open areas and past Imperial probe droids, and by the time they reached the skyhopper Jaax’a was grumbling about how waterproof boots were a fantastical fabrication that never existed in the first place. Corso was silent on the subject, as his were perfectly dry, though he paid for the protection by lugging significantly more weight on his feet than she did.

While they waited for the skyhop she sat on a cargo crate, boots off and toes in the sun, and Corso suddenly had a vision of her as a kid, goofing off without a care in the world. When he yanked himself back to reality, she was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling, and he knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He was about to say something when the dim, vibrating roar of the skyhopper came, landing carefully on the pad, and Jaax’a made a ridiculous face at shoving her feet back in her boots before hopping off the crate and heading for the hopper. Corso followed her, glad to have a surreptitious excuse to have a long look at her backside as he climbed the ramp behind her.

“I know when you’re watching me, you know,” she said quietly out of the corner of her mouth as they grabbed the safety straps above their heads. Corso chuckled, cheeks only just tinting pink.

“Then you should be used t’it by now.” She attempted a mock glare, but was interrupted by the hopper’s jerking as it took off and swung back around towards Bugtown, and Corso just grinned in reply.

When they arrived, their yellow Twi’lek friend was nowhere to be seen. They’d been standing by his terminal for a good five minutes before his droid hurried out, acting astoundingly like Ceetwo did when he was flustered.

“Master Numen has been captured and sent to Camp Vigil—a prison set up by the Voidwolf himself!”

“That guy, again?” Corso sighed.

“Master Numen has a pair of field disruptors he intended to use to break our people out. If you were to smuggle them to him now, he could stage a massive prison break from inside. The Empire will be humiliated!”

 _Oh, brother. A prison break masterminded by a protocol droid._ “I don’t suppose this prison has a convenient back entrance? Laundry service? Off-site catering?” Jaax’a couldn’t resist the bait.

“Master Numen has cultivated relationships with corrupt guards. If you make his deliveries, you should be able to gain access to the camp! I’ll give you IDs on the guards…” The protocol droid chattered away, moving to pick up the field disruptors and offer them to Jaax’a. “Just head to Sobrik—Camp Vigil is just inside.”

“Sobrik—like th’Imperial base?” Corso frowned.

“But of course!”

As Corso and Jaax’a left, he sighed. “I don’ like this.”

“Me neither, but it’s all we’ve got to go on, and Numen’s our contact. Without him we’re going blind.” Jaax’a patted the pocket where the disruptors sat, hidden in a modified datascanner. “Let’s go kill us some Imps.”

 

As they were beginning to find out, it was startlingly easy to get in to Sobrik. The guards were poorly trained, armed and armored, and when they couldn’t make it past them under cover of Jaax’a’s stealth generator it was little work to force their way through. Jaax’a felt bad, in a way. They were all just kids… probably full of the typical Imperial propaganda-mindset and knowing nothing of the actualities of occupation, what it did to a people. They were here with little choice in the matter and even smaller ability to choose in the first place.

They ducked into a doorway, waiting for a patrol to pass, and slipped in to what was clearly not a pleasant place to be, a gaping maw of an entrance into a hulking gray building, blast doors clamping down on escape. _I hate prisons._

Numen’s delivery in hand, she nodded to Corso, then flicked off the generator in the shadows; they crept out, alert for more guards, but none appeared.

“Oh! Thanks, I was startin’ t’run out.” The sloppy guard at the entrance to the prison camp took the offered stims gratefully. “So are you takin’ over for Numen, then? I saw him get picked up las’ night. Didn’ much like the delousin’. Er… you should probably go, too, before the patrol comes back.”

“Yeah. About that.” Corso crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to look imposing.

“Numen’s going to… save ‘imself, give up ‘is buyers,” Jaax’a said, making it up as she went and hoping the story didn’t seem too obvious, but trying to mask her voice, just in case. The guard was hazy, though, likely in withdrawal from whatever she’d delivered, and he barely seemed to be able to focus on her much less understand her words. “Y’need t’let me in there so I can keep ‘im quiet.”

“Oh no! Half our unit will be executed if they find out we’ve been buyin’ stims from th’resistance!” The private had the decency to attempt to seem alarmed, but mostly just sounded half-drugged.

“An’ he’ll put me outta business, too. Work with me ‘ere.”

“Okay, just… don’ tell anyone, alright?” The guard turned back to the console and tapped in a code, opening the blast doors guarding the prison.

Corso and Jaax’a walked in, hands near their blasters, tense, and suddenly stopped short as a blaster leveled itself with Jaax’a’s head, the safety clicking. She blinked.

“Keep your head _down._ Security’s tight inside the camp.”

“Do Mandalorians not learn how to say ‘hello’?” Jaax’a asked, an eyebrow raised, glancing at the tattooed woman out of the corner of her eye, still not moving. Corso shook his head, muttering something along the lines of “G’mornin t’you, too.”

Jaax’a would have sworn the red Zabrak snorted as she holstered her blaster. “ _Su_ _’cuy gar._ It also means ‘I’m surprised you’re still alive.’ Better?” She shook her head. “I’ve scouted the cells here. Security uses a two-man guard team as a precaution. Neither one of us will be able to get in alone.”

“Does this have something to do with that Moff?”

Akaavi sighed. “One of my clan members is imprisoned here. I’m going to free him.”

“Don’t doubt it,” Corso said, quietly.

“Every patrol has an access code for one of two terminals needed to enter the prison. We’ll have to activate both to get in. You get the code from this patrol—I’ll get the other and meet you at the terminal.” Akaavi nodded and disappeared back into the shadows where she’d come from.

“She’s… interestin’,” Corso said as he and Jaax’a crept through the prison, waiting for evidence of the patrol.

“No kidding,” Jaax’a replied, pausing in a dark corner. After a few minutes, they heard footsteps. The two-man patrol went down nearly silently; with their keycards in hand the pair went to the terminal. Akaavi popped out of nowhere shortly after.

“When you’re in, meet me at cell 665,” she said, typing in her code. “My clan brother is there. Help me free him, and I’ll help you with whatever you need here.”

“First I want to know who you are.”

“You already have my name. Go quickly. The codes change often.” She ran through the door that opened; by the time Jaax’a and Corso moved through, moments later, two fresh bodies lay on the floor beyond. There had been no noise to alarm anyone of their death.

“Don’t want to get on her bad side,” Corso said, quietly, as Jaax’a flicked on her stealth generator, both of them moving with their blasters out, safeties off.

They moved down corridors of cells, cringing at the state of half or mostly-dead prisoners—some were quite probably dead indeed. “Six-fifty, six-fifty-five, six-sixty...” Jaax’a muttered under her breath. “Six-sixty-five. Here we are.”

Akaavi was already there and angry, pointing her blaster again. “Who are you, old man? What happened to the Mandalorian who was in this cell?”

“What? Don’t shoot me! He was executed this morning!”

 _“Executed_ _…_ ”Akaavi turned and stalked away, suddenly heavily burdened, her head low.

“I know that… clans mean a lot to your people,” Jaax’a offered at a flimsy attempt at meaning.

“I have no clan now. He was the last.” Akaavi’s words were sharp, but laden with sorrow. She straightened, then, and Jaax’a gulped at the flaming hatred in her expression. “You do what you need to. I owe you that much. But you’d better be out of here in five minutes. Because I am going to _destroy_ this place.”

She leapt over the railing; Jaax’a heard a neat, controlled landing—one that tripped security, because alarms started reeling.

“No time like the present, eh?” Jaax’a said, then took off at a dead run, Flashy gripped tightly in her hand, Corso and Torchy hard on her heels. He didn't bother replying.

There was a brief, frantic search through the rows of mostly-empty containment cells; when they found an occupied one they fired on the control panels keeping them closed and the prisoners took the opportunity to bolt. On the next level up they found Numen Brock, sitting listlessly in his cell despite the shouts and alarm bells. He looked up at her in shock. “Let’s get outta here. This place is about to blow.”

“What? You brought my field disruptors? Give me two seconds and I will give you a thank you like you have _never_ seen.”

“Hey, buddy,” Corso growled, a warning in his tone.

“How’d you get in here? How’d you even know to come?”

“Long story—your droid told us. Let’s go.”

“I can honestly say there is no one I would rather be looking at right now than you.”

 _How dense_ is _he?_ Corso felt like either reminding him of his presence with the pointy end of his rifle--or maybe just making out with Jaax'a right in front of him. He settled for grousing, instead. “Are you sure we can’t just leave this guy here?”

Numen didn't appear to hear. “Call me when you’re done, Captain. We should find time to do this stuff properly. You know—food, candlelight…”

“No. Nuh-uh. No candles. She’s, uh, allergic.” Corso knew his cheeks were flaming, but _what_ was this man _thinking?_

Numen looked amused. “Good luck, Captain,” he said before dashing off to release more of his fellow prisoners.

“Allergic?” Jaax’a looked over at Corso, trying so, _so_ hard not to laugh, because the man's heart was in the right place and it was terribly endearing.

“Best I could think of? Short notice, y’know,” he said, trailing off, his blush getting even deeper, but then Jaax’a kissed him firmly, if quickly, and touched his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Corso,” she said, smiling. “Now let’s get outta here.” 

“I’ll say.”


	26. Balmorra: Moving Rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as a reward for your patience... an extra-long, extra-fun chapter full of adventure! injury! silly banter! military rations! and the fun stuff.

Daylight had them setting out from Moraine Gulch. They were aiming to raid an Imperial supply convoy winding through the canyon and there was just no good place to hide. “Kriff,” Jaax’a muttered as they crouched in a gulch, hoping that the tops of their heads were posing as rocks. Moving rocks. Stang.

Corso froze and she tried to shrink further, her ears listening acutely, and suddenly she had the feeling they’d been spotted. Shouts confirmed her suspicion and she rolled to the left as shots peppered where their heads had been moments ago. She jumped up and returned fire, distracting them as Corso leapt out of his hiding place, the Sergeant in his hands, smashing faces and doubling men over with the rifle to their gut. Another group came running in from one side and Jaax’a hurled a det, which at least slowed them down some.

Corso got tossed back by an EMP blast and was rolling to his feet when a cannoneer hefted his weapon. Jaax’a took off towards the soldier, tugging out her scattergun, firing at the man’s feet and hampering him, Flashy peppering his arms and torso with bursts of light. Corso was up and at ‘em again, his elbow smashing into an unarmored throat and, in a bit of creativity, his armored forehead into a man’s damaged helm; he went down with a strangled yell and Corso picked him off, having swapped Boom for Torchy, and aimed the pistol’s side-mounted rangefinder at the cannoneer and fired, only once.

The pair fought, circling, eventually ending up back-to-back, whipping blasters, jabbing punches, Jaax’a dancing around heaving, doubled-over men to let her scattergun cleave the air behind them with its heavy report, aiming almost carelessly at another’s calf to leave them staggering, Corso shooting off precise bits of flame from his wrist. They had finally fought free when a flash grenade went off between them. Blinded, Jaax’a moved on instinct, and would have been fine—but for the unseen thermal det that landed almost at her feet.

Corso must have gotten away before it went off. She was fortunate to have been standing on soft ground, at least; it exploded below her and the shockwave sent her flying backwards into what had been a tent full of crates instead of simply blowing her apart. She dimly heard Corso roar and twin reports of Boom and Torchy, then silence. A lot of silence.

“Jaax?” A voice, finally, bouncing off the canyon walls. “Jaax!”

She managed to suck half a breath into her lungs. “Here?” Her head was ringing, she was still blinded by the flash-bang, and there was a growing hot wetness in one hamstring that she did _not_ think was a good thing. The effort of shouting made her cough; sharp discomfort started nagging at her in several different areas, none of them critical, she didn’t think, but the heat in her thigh suddenly flared into white-hot pain.

Corso’s face appeared. “Stang. Gotta get you out of there.” He bent to move some debris blocking his way to her; the cargo crates below her started shifting and her thigh… well, the best word was _squelched._

“Stop,” she managed to bite out, knowing she was hyperventilating. “Bleeding. Bad.”

He froze. “Okay. Okay. Get your shit t’gether, Riggs. Where?”

“Left… left thigh.”

“You got a mighty big splinter stickin’ outta your holster, but it looks like it’s—oh, _kriff._ _”_

“How far… right leg from… ground?” She was fighting for words; dizziness was tugging at her brain. _No, not right now. Pass out later. Think now._

“Not far.”

“Tie off left.” He goggled at her. “Pass out if you don’t.” He cursed and unbuckled his belt, whipping out the length of leatheris. He worked it under her thigh. “Higher.” He slid it up and she hissed, then managed to nod and not scream—much—when he doubled the loop and wrenched it tight. “Okay. Fuck. Okay. Up. Then kolto.”

She didn’t manage not to gasp when he got his arms under her torso, and his count to three to prepare her didn’t make a difference when the chunk of wood sticking out of her thigh broke off as he lifted her, scoring her already-open flesh further as she wailed soundlessly, a solid four inches of former cargo crate embedded in her thigh. She felt him fumbling at her pack for thankfully unbreakable vials of kolto; she was slumped against him, one of his arms holding her upright, one of hers hanging on to his neck for dear life. “Two.”

“Y’need more than that, sweetheart.” His voice was shaking as he pressed the first auto-injector against skin showing through a rip in her sleeve.

“Later. Back... the outpost.”

“Jaax, you’ve got a chunk of wood stickin’ outta your leg and you’re bleedin’ like a belly-stuck Gammorean.”

“Unzip my jacket.”

“What?” He propped her up and did it anyway.

“Use… shirt… wrap it.” Corso nodded and grabbed his folding vibroknife, making quick work of the seams of her shirt to pull it off, and zipped her jacket back up.

“How?”

“Strips. Tie… closed.”

“Leave the wood?”

“For now.” She steeled herself and balanced on her good leg, hands resting on his back as he crouched down and tied the first one. The world swirled unsettlingly around her. “Tighter.” It hurt, oh _stars_ did it hurt but it had to. “Thas… good.” A moment later and four strips of cloth were holding her thigh together; she was wavering badly.

Jaax’a didn’t say anything before she realized Corso had jabbed a stim into his leg, hefted her into his arms, and taken off running with her as deadweight. Normally she’d frown upon such casual use of the adrenal, and somewhere in her brain she knew he’d be paying for it dearly later, but just now she really didn’t care to think much at all.

At some point she passed out, either from blood loss or pain or both, and came to laying on her stomach, tilted down, her hips and legs propped up above her heart. Through the swirling pain in her head she vaguely noticed she was on a cot with a med-droid buzzing in the background. The acrid tang of blood replacer was strong in her nose; she saw one arm extended awkwardly and a direct infusion of the pinkish fluid flowing into it. _Guess I_ _’m still alive, then._

The pulsing agony in her leg confirmed that fact. She swallowed. “Cor…ssss…o?”

“Jaax.” There was relief in his voice and he touched her hand.

An electronic voice broke in. “Captain Lannen! Medic Towarts is away attending to several field injuries. Without him I’m afraid this outpost is not equipped to handle your injury! He is not scheduled to return for seventeen standard hours—”

“Droid,” she croaked, tilting her head to hear it better. “You got… basic surgical supplies?”

“This outpost is equipped to handle seventy-seven different types of minor surgical procedures—“

“Fantastic.” She swallowed. “’Cept you can’t do it. Corso, you ever patched up a ronto?”

“Yeah, but—“

“You got good hands. Talk you... through it. Droid, you assisss…tance trained?”

“Affirmative, Captain! I am specially designed to assist field medics with one-thousand-three-hundred-twenty-nine—“

“Good, fine. Assist… Riggs.” Jaax’a breathed for a long moment.

“You sure, Jaax?”

“Blood replacer only does… so much. Gotta stop it.” Her mind was decidedly foggy but growing clearer. “Droid, prepare for…” She thought hard. “Shrapnel removal and… wound sterilization.”

“Certainly!” Little whirrs, thumps, and metallic tings came from wherever the droid had gone. She couldn’t really see much, one eye closed against the pillow, the other hazily looking at the floor.

“Jaax, this is gonna _hurt_.”

“Hurts ‘lready.” She coughed. An idea seized her. “Gimme… pain hypo, ‘bout six inches ‘bove it.”

“You want me to shoot you in the ass with a hypo?”

“More r’less.”

“S’a good thing I love you,” he muttered, and she heard him tinker with something, then tug upwards on her leggings.

“Pants’re already toast, hon,” she whispered, conserving energy. “Just cut ‘em.”

She felt a coldness against her skin and heard the snicking sound of blades going through fabric. She didn’t feel anything pointy, though; _good boy, using bandage snips._ Cloth fell away from her body and she felt a prick, then the almost-painful sensation of a hypo releasing into her flesh. The pain in her leg softened, slightly.

“I am prepared to assist you,” the droid chattered, and she heard Corso rip open a packet, smelled antiseptic, heard the odd squeak of gloves sticking on sanitized skin.

Corso took a breath. “Jaax… I dunno if I can do this.”

“You can, Corso,” she said softly. “Jus’ like a ronto.”

“You’re not a ronto, Jaax.”

“Pretend.” She could almost feel him roll his eyes and a smile twitched at one corner of her mouth. She took a breath. “Have gauze handy, and a bin to drop it in. It’s gonna bleed when you… untie it and pull. Then flush. More than y’think it needs. Then forceps—the tweezer things—look for… pieces. Flush again. Check again.”

“Here goes,” he said, and loosened the belt around her thigh. Pain washed through her half-numb leg; with sensation returning she felt the blood that started to trickle down her skin as he cut the strips of cloth and pulled them free. She bit back a groan. “Pulling the… shrapnel out,” he said, voice shaky. The droid was silent, though its servos whirred as it did something, and despite her deep breath of preparation she felt she was going to puke with the sheer overwhelming burn of the wood sliding out of layers of flesh and muscle. It made an awful sucking sound that seemed to go on forever. Corso’s voice trembled. “It’s… deep, Jaax.”

“Keep… going,” she whispered hoarsely.

The process took time, but she felt his hands grow steadier as he got the hang of the technique, and eventually pain layered on pain until she was just numb and detached. She floated somewhere in her mind, not-quite-conscious, and eventually she felt herself being pulled back to awareness, his voice saying her name. “Jaax’a. Love. Jaax, you hear me?”

“Unh.” She blinked. “Wha?”

“It’s clean,” he said. “Vee-two checked.”

“My superior visual receptors are designed for procedures like this,” the droid chattered.

“Good,” she rasped.

“I also analyzed the severity of your wound, Captain. No major blood vessels, tendons, or ligaments were severed. No further procedures are needed.”

“That’s somethin’.” She took a breath. “Kolto seal, where it’s deep… work to the skin. Slow. Try… to close.”

Corso worked carefully with the tube of sterile, concentrated kolto, the kind that stung and felt bubbly as it mended unwilling flesh together once more. She faded out again until some time later to see him sitting in front of her, her hand in his, her thigh thudding against itself uncomfortably, but not so much that it set her medic’s alarm bells to ringing.

“Vee-two insisted on a pressure wrap,” he said quietly, “another bag of blood replacer an’ systemic kolto. You’ve been out for a while. I cleaned you up best I could while you were still unconscious.” The precise, sterile words sounded odd in his gentle accent. She realized she wasn’t cold and while her head pounded, it felt rather more solid.

“Told you… you could… do it,” she said slowly. He huffed and she could hear the smile in the exhale.

“Don’t make me do it again?”

“I’ll try,” she murmured, her fingertips rubbing gently against his palm. He bent and kissed her knuckles. He was shivering; she knew he’d overdone it, running back to the outpost carrying her as deadweight, the stim powering his system, then needing the laser focus that it took to repair her leg. “Sleep.”

“Don’ want t’leave you.”

“Move a cot over… stay warm. Saw you… stim.”

He sighed and stood. “Even half-dead you’re takin’ care of me,” he muttered, and she heard him dragging the other cot against the ground.

“Never stop,” she said. The cot squeaked as he eased on to it, and he reached out to hold her hand. “Takes more than… a det t’keep me down… anyhow.”

“I love you,” he said.

“Love you,” she murmured, already half-asleep again.

 

Jaax’a spent the next day lying on her stomach with her leg propped up, changing positions only to eat or be half-carried to the ‘fresher. Medic Towarts had returned just after dawn and checked over the wound, a process which irritated Corso to no end—not because he was concerned about his repair job (which ended up being fine) but because of Towarts’ wandering eyes, or so he claimed, which spurred him to find her replacement clothes until the skyhopper came with her spares, which Risha had kindly sent along. She was stuck laying down with her leg elevated for at least eighteen if not twenty-four standard hours to allow the kolto-sealed wound to knit, then wait at least another standard day before trying much more than a gentle walk, and the forced inactivity was grating on her. Around 1500 she changed which side of her head was on the pillow yet again, cracked an eye open, and glared at Corso, who was lying on his cot beside her, sprawled quite comfortably on his back. He wasn’t surprised by the scowl on her face and smiled in reply.

“If I have to spend the day in bed, I’d much rather be doing something else than _nothing_ ,” she groused, trying to get comfortable for what had to be the thirtieth time that day.

“Like what?” Corso was trying to keep a straight face, but his voice was more than a little suggestive.

“Exactly what you’re thinking would be a place to start,” she replied, voice oversweet.

“Really, now?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“I could be… persuaded… t’make arrangements.”

She hefted herself up on one elbow. “I’d hop myself over to your cot right now, open door be damned, but somehow I don’t think we’d get the resistance boys to like us any more by reminding them of what they’re missing.”

Corso nodded. “Fair point. Nice o’you to mind them.”

She cast an appraising glance over him as he shifted somewhat uncomfortably. “Aw, Corso, did I get your hopes up?”

“You got somethin’ up,” he muttered, sighing.

“Maybe I can get myself outta here long enough later for us to go for a… walk.” He looked at her; she was smiling wickedly, her eyes sparkling.

“Guess you’re feelin’ better,” he said, and folded his hands behind his head.

“Long as you ignore the leg,” she said.

“Well, I won’t ignore it, but I sure can distract you,” he said, his own wicked smile curving across his face.

“Mm. Looking forward to it,” she replied, and sank back onto her cot, finding it suddenly much easier not to think about the pounding in her thigh and focus on the heat building between her legs instead.

Corso got up about an hour later. She was dozing and vaguely noticed him go; he’d closed his fingers around her hand and kissed her temple. Sometime after that he reappeared with food and his pack, which looked somewhat plumper than it had earlier. She rolled onto her good side and looked up at him.

“Good ol’ rations for us tonight,” he said.

“Joy of joys.” She accepted the package and water jug he handed her and choked it down as quickly as possible. He watched her, amused.

“Hungry?”

“You try healing up a wound like this on rations.” She shuddered and tipped the water down her throat; he couldn’t help but watch her swallow repeatedly, a shiver running down his spine.

“I did a little recon,” he said conversationally.

“Oh?”

“Found a nice little spot you might like to get some fresh air in. Y’know, get your leg movin’ again so’s you don’t stiffen up. And Towarts didn’t think a walk would hurt you any if you’re careful.”

Jaax’a raised an eyebrow and he winked, then patted his pack. _Oh boy._ Hefting herself up on her arms and easing over the edge of the cot, she tested her weight on her bandaged leg; _not bad, all things considered._ She couldn’t walk without limping, and not far without help, but it would take some weight. The pressure bandage was beginning to drive her insane, but without it she’d have a rather large new scar to add to her collection (and one that hampered her, to boot), so she let it be.

Corso drained his water jug and came to stand at her bad side, his arm around her waist. They walked in the cooling air, away from the camp, and after a few minutes left the path. On the edge of the mesa, where the dirt gave way to spits of green and the daylight was just beginning to fade over the horizon, was a serious thicket of bushes.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Give a man a minute. You good?”

She shuffled to a large rock and leaned against it. “Yup.” He opened his pack and pulled out his heaviest workblade, one she’d almost never seen him use, and shortly there was a narrow path through. He grabbed his pack and disappeared back into the brush. “Riggs, you gonna leave me out here?”

“Hang on,” he said, voice muffled, and she heard rustling and his pack unzipping. A few minutes later he came out. “Alright. Ladies first.”

She shook her head, smiling bemusedly as she took his arm to balance on, but when she managed to get in to the little copse she sighed happily. “Oh, Corso.”

“Told you I did a little recon,” he said, softly. He’d laid a crinkly emergency blanket down as a barrier, then a soft blanket over it; a little stack of rocks off to one side suggested he’d moved them out of the way. Aside from a large rock, which split the brush on the edge of the cliff, giving them light and even a view, they were surrounded by green.

When she looked back at him he was shirtless and pulling his boots off. He helped her out of her boots, then stood with her on the blankets, keeping her steady while she shrugged out of the overlarge shirt and pants she’d borrowed. She sighed as he pulled her close, their skins touching, and before long he’d helped her down to the blankets.

“Off,” she said, flapping her hand at him, and he chuckled and shucked his pants before joining her. They laid side by side, hands roaming over each other, lips brushing, caressing, and despite this only being their second time together—and out in the open at that—Jaax’a found herself utterly unconcerned. She whimpered as his fingers brushed her throbbing sex, teasing her, and he hummed in appreciation when she nibbled on the sensitive spot on his neck in reply.

“C’mere,” he said, voice husky and deep, and rolled on to his back. “Easier on your leg.” She shifted so she was spread atop him and found she quite liked being able to feel the broad expanse of his skin against hers, not to mention the rather handy location of his ready maleness between her silky thighs. She wasn’t ready for him just yet, but found they both enjoyed gently rocking together this way, mimicking the act they so wanted, all their nerve endings fizzing together at the slick contact.

“Corso,” she whispered, and he groaned; her voice had gone sultry and _so_ sexy and he put his hands on her hips, stilling her.

“I need you, Jaax,” he replied, hoarse, almost choked.

“Mmm,” she purred, and rocked her slickness over him again, tempting him, and he tried to hold back the strangled sound in his throat but simply couldn’t.

“Please.” It came out as a husky growl, half-hissed.

She paused for a moment as she realized he was _asking. Stars, the man is actually_ asking _me. I_ _’ve been teasing him all day and he_ _’s already between my legs and he_ _’s asking for_ permission.

A wave of intense heat and desire, followed shortly by overwhelming emotion at how _amazing_ this man was, swamped her and she had to swallow hard before she could reply. “Yes, Corso.” He sighed in relief and his hand, resting on her hip, slid over the curve of her ass, squeezing approvingly, and down her good thigh before slipping between them. “Wait.” He groaned softly. “I want to see your face.”

“You kill me, woman,” he said, quietly, but it was without heat, and when she lifted her head he was smiling at her. When he finally did slide inside her it was all the more intense for looking in each others’ eyes, for truly seeing the other’s expression at their joining. Her jaw dropped as he filled her, a high-pitched sigh easing out of her lungs, and the lines of his face went slack, a low, quiet moan turning in his throat.

Quickly they found that too much activity jostled her leg and sent pain shooting through it, which was not precisely on her list of turn-ons, and so they made love slowly as the light faded, filling their little hideaway with soft moans and sighs. After a time she felt Corso’s heart begin to beat faster against her chest, pattering shallowly, and a glance at his sunset-lit expression told her he was hanging on hard, sweat beading across his forehead, his eyes tensing.

She nuzzled his neck and nibbled, gently, and he choked on his breath. “Come for me,” she whispered to him, adding a little extra twist to her rocking hips, and he groaned and held her tight, resisting. “Please.” He fought to focus on her, saw her smile, and let his breath out in a great whoosh as he thrust once, twice, then let go and spun loose inside of her, his back arching, the shout he kept quiet vibrating in his throat. After a long, throbbing moment he fell slack again, panting, and opened an eye to look at her.

“I… did you…?”

“Shh,” she told him, arranging herself comfortably across his body, his heat keeping her warm in the cooling dusk. He relaxed, his arms cradling her against him.

Long minutes later he took a deep breath. “Wow.” She chuckled and nodded in reply, her nose rubbing his neck. “But unless I missed it, darlin’, and I don’t think I did, you didn’t…”

“S’alright,” she said, turning her head so he could hear her better.

“No, s’not,” he protested.

“You’ll make it up to me somehow, I think.” She stretched against him. “And we’re still getting to know each other, after all.”

He sighed. “I owe you one.”

“No, Corso, there’s no anyone owing anything,” she said. “I don’t need to come to enjoy myself. And I enjoyed that. Greatly.” He shot her a look that she very nearly laughed at. “That glare is much more effective when you’re not in postcoital bliss, dear.”

“Well, she-who-isn’t-in-post-coi… whatever,” he mumbled, apparently giving up on the conversation, “I have a rock in m’back.”

Jaax’a smiled as she rolled off of him. “Oh, I’m plenty blissful,” she said. “I just hope you brought a towel in that pack of yours, because otherwise I’m stealing your shirt.”

“Huh?”

“You made a mess.” She gestured below her waist and grinned at his expression; he sighed and sat up, chuckling as he pawed through the pack.

“So I did.” He handed her his shirt.


	27. Balmorra: The Moff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made you wait... so sorry, my dears... but here's a chap, and I am putting the polishing touches on the next, and at some point I'll get to the huge backload of pages (seriously, like 90). And then you'll have lots to read!

They were close, Jaax’a knew, and she hoped her leg would hold out just a while longer, because they were getting _very_ short on time to hijack the Nebula shipment of prototype weapons, which were the blasted things they had been sent to Balmorra to get in the first place and it would _really_ look bad if they botched it now. And Moff Tyrak’s babbling was really, really not helping her headache. She sighed and felt the veins in her temples pulse as he spoke again.

“I’ve ordered plenty of deaths, but I’ve never had to _watch_ one,” he blubbered, brushing constantly at his torn clothing, the disguise doing little to conceal him. He was a hulk of a man and didn’t exactly pass as a servant boy.

“If all Imperials are like you, it’s a wonder you can get your armor on in the morning,” Jaax’a spat through gritted teeth. She felt Corso’s presence just behind her like a physical thing, supporting her, somehow.

“Oh, and before you go, can you—“

“Shut it,” Corso rumbled, and gestured crudely to the empty cargo crate which was to hide the Moff, now that he’d gotten his so-called security detail killed. After the hulking man had climbed inside, mumbling something about the dark, Corso closed the crate.

They wound through the halls of the Balmorran Arms Factory, stalking in shadows and hiding from patrols under the cover of her stealth generator. The factory creaked and whined and shuddered occasionally around them, continuing blithely on, blind to their infiltration, and they made their way more or less unfettered to the control panels they needed to send the weapons elsewhere. Just after Jaax’a’d hacked the system piloting the droid patrols and rerouted the prototypes to the Republic, the thrumming intensity of adrenaline beginning to ease her into shaky fatigue as the job was done, they heard a stern Imperial voice behind them.

“Is she the one?”

“Yes. Er… no. She’s, um, an authorized… repair, yes, that’s it, repair tech sent by High Command…”

 _Pathetic, just_ _… pathetic._ Jaax’a sighed, unsurprised that Moff Tyrak had given them away, and turned to face the patrol captain.

“Surrender. You are in violation of the laws of the Sith Empire.”

Jaax’a rubbed her face, pasting on a smirk. “Really? Usually I stick to violating the laws of the planet I’m on.”

“Balmorra is a protectorate of the Sith Empire. The word of the Emperor is law.”

“This isn’t my fault! I was being helpful, I was scouting for guards!” Tyrak blubbered, seriously looking like he was about to cry.

Jaax’a saw Corso look up, out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she had the urge to grin, the throbbing in her thigh easing as adrenaline once again shot through her blood. Her right hand itched to hold Flashy.

“Usually the point of scouting is to catch them _before_ they catch you,” Corso replied slowly, rolling his eyes.

“Silence! Men, kill them!”

And then a thermal detonator landed among the Imperial patrol, beeping, with a tidy little _clink._

The guards scattered, the unlucky ones falling where they stood as it went off; then, Jaax’a did grin, as one Akaavi Spar landed precisely where her detonator had, springing neatly off of the pipe running along the ceiling.

“Thank me later,” she said, and turned, wielding her techstaff, to face the droid patrol that was entering.

The three of them made short work of the patrol, Corso staying well out of Akaavi’s way and Jaax’a supplying plenty of thermal dets of her own, happy to stay back and take it easy on her leg. Once Akaavi had set her staff back in its place on her back, Jaax’a holstered Flashy and straightened from her crouch, moving somewhat unevenly towards the Zabrak. “You keep doing that.”

“I have saved your life. In return, I demand that you turn over Moff Tyrak. I have hunted this man for five years, ever since his command saw my entire clan executed as traitors.” She turned on him, the Moff having survived by cowering behind a console. “It was a lie! They served the Empire with honor! What did you seek to gain with their deaths?”

The Moff whimpered.

“Whatever the reason, it can’t have been easy, losing your clan like that,” Jaax’a said, quietly.

“I am Mandalorian. That is all I have. Without my clan, I cannot claim even that.”

Apparently Tyrak had recovered his wits. “It’s not ringing any bells,” he said. “But my assistant handles most of that sort of paperwork…”

“But… why did you do it? Why conspire against them?”

“If I get an execution order, I always sign it! Better the wrong man dead than a traitor left alive, I say!”

“This cannot be him! Where is the real Moff Tyrak? The sadistic Imperial puppet master?” Akaavi almost looked distraught, the smallest sliver of emotion showing on her tattooed face.

Jaax’a hesitated before offering, “In my experience, the world’s a messy place. People die, usually for no good reason.”

“No. This can’t be. My clan deserves venegeance, their names cleared by blood!”

“My family was killed, too,” Corso said, quietly. “Somehow, you learn to live.”

Akaavi was silent, then, though Jaax’a saw her internal conflict, hand reaching for her blaster, then not, her eyes flashing agony and hatred. They handed the Moff to the resistance to be dealt with and found themselves standing there, Akaavi still as a statue and swirling in loss. There was something immeasureably intriguing about the woman, something that made Jaax’a want to get to know her.

There was silence until the Zabrak spoke. “I am not often at a loss for words,” she said, quietly. “But I had not thought where to go once my search ended. Are… are you looking for an extra gun?”

Jaax’a blinked. She felt Corso tense, then ease beside her. Rapidly her brain leapt through reasons to say _no_ , but the woman hadn’t killed them yet, and she’d had more than plenty of opportunities. And… there was kinship, somehow, a connection she felt.

“I can’t offer you a clan, but I can offer you a bunk,” Jaax’a said. “Long as you want it.”

“And I cannot give you my loyalty, but while I am with you I will serve you well.” She bowed her head; while the words would have sounded hollow coming from anyone else, Jaax’a knew that for a Mandalorian, they were good as any oath. “I did not forget my promise of payment for bringing me the Moff. What would you have of me?”

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances if we’re traveling together.” Jaax’a resisted the urge to rub at her thigh, settling for digging her fingers into her hip.

Akaavi blinked, tilting her head. “Your generosity is… unexpected.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “Very well. I will wait for you at your ship.”

Jaax’a nodded in return. Akaavi disappeared with a feline grace— _gonna have to get used to that_ _—_ and as the adrenaline faded from her blood, so did the stim that had kept the pain in her leg at bay.

“You’re limpin’ bad, darlin’,” Corso said quietly as they made their way back through the hallways.

“I know.” She stopped and he was suddenly against her back, hands on her waist, giving her a steady place to lean. She sighed.

“Back to Bugtown and we’re outta here,” he murmured into her neck.

“And then we get a vacation?”

“Yup.”

Jaax’a grit her teeth as she jabbed a stim into her leg, trying to anchor herself against the swooping wave of the artificial high that left her feeling off-kilter and almost ill. “That’s the last one I can use.”

“Then let’s get you home.”

 

On the hopper back to Bugtown, Corso held Jaax’a tight against him, supporting her through the swoops and shudders that came with the hopper’s awkward flight. The landing rattled their bones and Jaax’a looked somewhat green when they emerged into the weak sunlight.

“Just gotta check in and get flight clearance,” she sighed, sipping water and splashing some on her face, trying to wash off the sticky sweat that clung to her uncomfortably. Corso followed her back to the base, where they said their goodbyes to Numen Brock—who actually seemed put-out by her sudden lack of response to his flirting, which, try as he might, Corso couldn’t help but feel smug about—and updated the commander on the other outposts which needed assistance.

The shuttle back up to the orbital station had seats, thankfully, and the trip passed quickly for Jaax’a, who hadn’t noticed she’d dozed off until she woke up as the shuttle landed. Instead of waiting in line at the clearance inspection counter, she flashed her ID card to the priority access droid, which burbled and allowed her to pass through when it recognized her Senate sponsorship.

“Handy,” Corso said from behind her. “Why don’t we do that all th’time?”

“Don’t want to draw attention,” she said, voice rough. “I don’t think I’ll make it back if we wait in line, though.”

“You need to stop running and let that leg heal,” he said, quietly.

She didn’t argue or even comment, which worried him; as they waited for the elevator to their hangar he gently pulled her flush against him, letting her lean back and take some weight off her bad leg. She relaxed only slightly and even that was enough to have her shaking with exhaustion, the adrenal running under her skin fizzing in conflict.

As they entered the hangar Corso moved to scoop her up and carry her the rest of the way, but she stilled him; he realized why as Akaavi appeared out of a nest of crates where she’d stashed herself, pack slung over her back.

“I’m not particularly chatty at the moment,” Jaax’a said, and Akaavi simply nodded, following as the smuggler limped to the ship’s ramp. “Ship’s droid will get you set up with the security, you can introduce yourself to Risha and Bowdaar. There’s a bunk and locker and if you need more space we can get you some storage in the hold. Sound good?”

The ship chimed as Jaax’a punched in her entry code and she stopped as she looked at the stairs to the main level. She sighed, grit her teeth, and began to climb, limping heavily, but three painful steps up Corso picked her up, muttering something about playing the hero.

“Mistress Jaax’a! Have you been injured? Dear me, dear me, Master Corso, is she all right? Oh! Greetings! I am Ceetwo-Enntwo, ship’s droid—Mistress—“

“I assume you have a medbay?” Akaavi asked, in that interesting not-really-a-question tone Jaax’a was finding she used often. “Go. I will find my way around. Thank you.”

“Crew quarters’re left, second on the right,” Corso said. “Bowdaar’s the Wookie. Risha’s probably hiding in the engine room. Help yourself in the galley.” He departed, then, to the medbay, leaving behind a confused Ceetwo attempting to talk to Akaavi.

Once Jaax’a was stretched out on the bed he went to the cabinet, pulling out an electrolyte packet and a cup. Dumping the contents of the packet in to the cup, he filled it with water, let it fizz, then brought it to her.

“Oh, joy,” she muttered dryly before taking a deep breath and downing the contents of the cup as quickly as possible. “Water?” she asked, after, an awful expression across her face, and he refilled it. She chugged that cup as well, swishing the first sip through her mouth before swallowing it. “Ugh. Corso, did you _have_ to give me grape?”

“That’s all that’s left.”

“They should make grape-free boxes, then.” She made a face and stuck her tongue out; he chuckled.

“Better?”

“Little bit.”

“You’re not so pale.” Corso sat down on the bed beside her. “You can’t have any stims, right?”

“Not for a few hours.” She sighed. “Kolto.”

Corso pulled off her boots and helped her wiggle out of her tights, then carefully unwrapped the pressure bandage. The layers against her skin clung damply and the wrap revealed pale flesh dotted with angry red. She hissed as he pulled the last of the material free.

“This doesn’t look too good, love.”

Jaax’a propped herself up on her arms and inspected it as best she could. “Itches. Looks like a reaction to something. Allergy hypo… and use the numbing gel?”

Corso nodded and poked through the cabinet, returning with a vial of kolto, a hypo, and a jar. She made all number of awkward faces when Corso pressed the injectors to her leg, but held still; he heard her breath hissing in and out as he began to layer coats of the gel over the irritated skin. “Sorry, darlin’.”

“It’ll stop… soon…” She exhaled roughly and set her jaw.

Three coats in she began to relax, and when he turned back to her after cleaning up the supplies and washing his hands she was half-asleep. “Jaax?”

“Mmm?” She blinked, managing to train an eye on him looking down on her.

“Should I wrap your leg or…”

“It’ll be okay for a couple hours. Needs a break.” She closed her eyes again.

“You’d be more comfortable in bed, y’know.”

“Too tired.”

Corso chuckled, pulled a blanket off a shelf, managed to tuck it around her legs and scooped her up, her lower half covered. She opened her eyes again to attempt to glare at him as he carried her out of the medbay, but it was with little heat, and any irritation on her part melted away when he set her on her— _their_ _—_ soft mattress. She sat up enough to help him get her jacket, gloves and bracers off, and then she curled up on her good side and slid easily into sleep. Corso pulled the blanket over her and kissed her cheek; she mumbled something cute and he smiled, then let her be.

He found Akaavi wandering the circular hall of the ship, looking at the paneling and ventilation. “How was she injured?” the woman asked, still armored, her techstaff resting over her back.

“Det threw her into a tent full of crates. Got a nasty chunk of wood in her leg.”

The Zabrak nodded and continued prowling; Corso shook his head and turned to head for the galley. “You hungry?”

Akaavi paused and looked at him for a long moment before she blinked. “I… I’m not used to company. I apologize.”

“S’fine.” Silence stretched for a moment. “Not sure what you like to eat—do Mandalorians have cultural food? Anyway, there’s usually somethin’ good around. Jaax has some interestin’ tastes, but Ceetwo keeps the rest of us fed. Let ‘im know what you like, he’ll get it.”

Akaavi didn’t move, so Corso headed towards the galley, leaving it up to her whether she’d follow or not. Bowdaar was already there, having taken over the table to tinker with a stack of datapads, and he rumbled a greeting. Corso rummaged through the cabinet and was opening a fresh package of his favorite snack, his mouth watering at the sound of the plasti squeaking as it gave way, when Akaavi appeared in the doorway, looking almost skittish.

“You met Bow yet?” Bowdaar lifted his head, looked between them, and said nothing, which Corso took to mean no, she hadn’t. “Bowdaar, Akaavi Spar. She’s comin’ aboard for awhile.”

 _“Nice to meet you, fellow warrior,_ _”_ Bowdaar rumbled gently.

“Likewise.” Akaavi relaxed, though the movement was so slight as to be almost unnoticeable.

 _Boy, is she interestin_ _’,_ Corso thought, but shrugged and held out the bag. “Cheese curl?"

 

Jaax’a woke to Corso’s gentle snoring beside her. Smiling, she reached out and poked his shoulder, hard enough to convince him to shift, and he burrowed deeper into his pillow, mumbling something, and was silent.

She looked over at the chrono; she’d been asleep a few hours and it was sometime around 2100, if she cared to attempt to get back into standard time, which she didn’t. Her stomach reminded her of the reason why she’d woken; still half-asleep she swung her legs out of bed and bit back a curse as her unwrapped thigh strained to move accordingly, pulling on tentatively-knit tissue that wasn’t ready for use just yet.

Hopping carefully on one foot, balancing on various furniture as she went, she got to her drawers and pulled out a clean shirt and pants; changing was awkward but do-able. Getting to the door was more difficult, however, but she managed, only banging her elbow once. Corso shifted and she froze, trying not to wake him, but he slept on, oblivious.

With help from the wall she worked her way towards the medbay. Halfway there she was panting, the overtired muscles in her uninjured leg quaking with strain, and she paused to breathe; suddenly Akaavi meandered up behind her as if out of nowhere. “You need assistance.”

“Help me to the medbay? Gotta rewrap my leg before I walk on it.”

Akaavi nodded and wrapped an arm around Jaax’a’s waist; Jaax’a slung her arm over Akaavi’s shoulders. She went to take a step and found herself half-carried, propelled by sheer strength, and suddenly they were outside the door to the medbay. _Stang, she_ _’s strong._

“Thanks,” Jaax’a said, hopping to the supply closet where she selected a jar, a disposable towel and a wrap, then moving to lean against one of the biobeds. She looked up at Akaavi and noticed the woman had abandoned her techstaff and some of her armor; she didn’t miss the outlines of knife holsters, though. Akaavi was not a woman who went unarmed—nor one who needed weapons to kill, unless Jaax’a missed her guess. “Not trying to flash you, but I can’t exactly get at this with pants on, so…”

Akaavi merely nodded, so Jaax’a shrugged and wiggled out of them, letting the cloth puddle around her feet, and set to work with the kolto gel. Most of the irritation had eased, she noted; once another coat of gel had soaked in, it should be comfortable wrapped again. She wiped her hands off on the towel after rubbing in the gel, waiting for it to dry. Glancing up, she noticed Akaavi was still in the doorway, and the smuggler raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“You’re a medic.”

“Yep. Good thing, too, ‘cause we don’t have one otherwise.” Jaax’a touched her leg; her fingers came away tacky, still.

Akaavi seemed tentative for a moment, then rolled up one form-fitting sleeve. Her face gave away no expression, but Jaax’a’s eyebrows raised in alarm; the majority of her inner forearm was black and purple, visible even against her red skin, and it began to swell as soon as the tight fabric rolled back. The injury had to hurt.

“Where’d you get _that_?”

The Zabrak’s face flickered with a ghost of a smile. “Someone unwise thought they could hide behind a battle droid.”

Jaax’a put the scenario together and shook her head, holding back a chuckle. “Let me wrap my leg again and I’ll look at it.” It was the work of only a few moments to rewrap her thigh and ease herself back into her pants; she moved the jar of gel aside and patted the biobed. “Up here.” Akaavi looked at it accusingly before sitting and cautiously extending her arm towards Jaax’a, who steadied it, gently wrapping her fingers around the injured wrist. “Don’t kill me, alright?”

Akaavi’s eyes narrowed, but she made an effort to relax, anyway, and Jaax’a supposed that was as close to an apology as she’d get. Gently she probed the Mandalorian’s bruised, swollen skin, noting that despite her impassive expression the Zabrak was breathing quicker and her pulse was thumping unsteadily with pain.

“Straighten your fingers?” Jaax’a asked, quietly, and Akaavi obeyed. “Curl? Hm. Fist?” She felt rather than saw Akaavi’s anger flare as the hand simply refused to close into a fist, much less grip anything tightly. “Let me run a scan, see if anything’s broken.”

Limping to the cabinet again, she pulled out a portable scanner as well as another length of wrapping, a vial of kolto and another disposable towel. The scanner chirruped and flickered green light over Akaavi’s arm before bleeping a negative result. “A hairline fracture, but aside from that, just deep bruising and a sprain. Should heal pretty quick.”

Akaavi didn’t say anything, but she tensed when Jaax’a picked up the auto-injecting vial, and the smuggler looked up. “Just kolto. The bone bruising will take weeks with topical gel alone, and you need it for the hairline break.” The Zabrak nodded curtly, after a moment, and her lips tightened as the injector released into her already-painful skin. Between the injection and the gel Jaax’a rubbed on, the bruising and swelling began to ease, and there was improvement by the time it disappeared under the supportive bandage. After wiping her hands clean, Jaax’a offered Akaavi the tub of gel. “Three or four times a day until the swelling stays down on its own. Rub it in good, a light massage will help—keep it wrapped until the pain’s gone.”

“Thank you,” Akaavi said, quietly, and closed her hand into a fist.

“No problem. And don’t overdo it.” She threw away the towels and put the empty kolto vial in a box with others waiting to be sterilized and refilled. “Kolto might make you a little weird for a few hours, that’s normal. Best t’just sleep it off. You hungry?”

“Many of your crew have asked me that.”

“Many? Like… two?” Jaax’a smiled. “We’re into food around here. Heard it’s good for you or something.” She headed out of the medbay and into the galley, sighing at the remains of a sandwich on the counter. “I swear I’m going to have to put a sign up.” Akaavi, who’d followed silently behind, was curious, Jaax’a guessed; the oft-silent woman was incredibly good at speaking with body language. “Corso is _horrible_ about cleaning up after himself.”

Jaax’a smiled, enjoying Akaavi’s silent amusement behind her. _I_ _’m going to_ like _having her around._


	28. Heartstrings

They headed to the Fleet to restock and gear up. Senator Dodonna had called and asked if she’d be willing to go to Quesh, a more-or-less insignificant little planet, with the notable exception of the combat adrenals it produced. Jaax’a had told her she’d really rather not: to start with, she didn’t get along with Hutts (Corso had silently backed her up on that one), and there were plenty of others of her status happy to work with them. Dodonna, frustrated, had cut the comm line with a rudeness uncharacteristic of a Senator, and Jaax’a had wondered yet again why something about the woman just _bothered_ her _._

“Let Darmas deal with her,” Jaax’a had said, shrugging it off. “We need a break, not a trip to a poisonous planet.”

So they spent a few days resting on the Fleet, Akaavi easing in to the regular life aboard the ship, and while she didn’t exactly become fast friends with anyone, she managed to join the camaraderie, in her own way. Bowdaar enjoyed sparring with her immensely, and while Risha was cautious around the Zabrak, Jaax’a eventually found them practicing dirty wrestling tactics in the hold one afternoon and figured they’d had a meeting of the minds. _And the floor,_ she thought, shaking her head at the muffled _thwap_ behind her as one of the women hit the mat.

Corso had spent the first afternoon moving his things into Jaax’a’s cabin, grinning broadly, not even Risha’s teasing enough to ruin his mood. She’d done some reorganizing in the hold and managed to find another locking cabinet to tuck into the cabin, which he happily filled with weapon maintenance supplies and padded storage boxes. When she went into the ‘fresher that evening before bed and found his toothbrush and odorblock next to hers, her heart flipped over in her chest in the oddest fashion, and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

He was pulling his boots off, sitting on the edge of the bed, when she came to him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “What’re you all smiley about?”

She rested her forehead against his. “You.”

“Jus’ me?” His arms moved to loop gently around her waist, and he sighed softly, feeling a blanket of intimacy fall around them. It was a novel feeling, one that was rapidly becoming important, necessary, needed.

“You, here, with me.”

“Always, darlin’.” He tipped his chin up to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You tired?”

“Only a little. Need to get off my leg, mostly.”

Corso patted the bed, and she sat beside him; he finished pulling off his boots, then got up to put them away and shucked off his clothes, dropping them in the laundry bin, leaving him clad only in his snug shorts. She took the opportunity to look at him, his compact, athletic form, broad shoulders, trim waist, defined hips, round, muscular ass…

She blinked as she realized he was standing in front of her, now; amusement was plain on his features. “Oh. Hi.”

He laughed, grinning. “You’re too easy, y’know that?”

“Pot calling the kettle black, much?” She reached out, quashing any sense of uncertainty, and ran a finger down the slight rise in his shorts, looking up at him through her lashes. He swallowed visibly and shuddered.

“I had a _plan_ ,” he groused.

“By all means.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap and looked up at him.

He shook his head, smiling. “Lay down? On your stomach?”

She complied and helped him when he slid his fingers under the waist of her pants, lifting her hips as he slid the loose fabric down. He briskly unwrapped her thigh, then opened a drawer and fiddled with something; shortly after she felt his hands, coated with cool lotion, rubbing gently over the tender skin.

“Unnh,” she told the pillow as his hands slid over her. His thumbs worked gently over the healing scar, persuading webbed tissue to ease and soften, the thickened fascia that separated muscle from skin letting go of its stubborn tightness.

His hands began to blend into the rest of her leg, fingers running firmly down her calf and up into the deep tendons that formed the cradle of the joint of her hip, and she was boneless when his skin left hers. She made an inarticulate noise in protest and he chuckled. “Patience,” he murmured, and his voice was low, husky. Desiring.

She heard a click and snap and the hiss of air being squeezed out of a bottle, and then his hands returned to her skin again, this time slick with oil, and his hands ran in tandem up the outside of her legs, fingers trailing. She sighed happily as his body came back into contact with hers.

She realized belatedly that it wasn’t plain massage oil that he was spreading over her skin, and the spicy scent that accompanied it reached the apex of her thighs before it hit her nose. Cinnamon, sandalwood, musk. _Heat._

“You’re cheating,” she mumbled into the pillow again, and his chuckle was a low rumble, now, the pretext to the rough almost-purr of his voice when he was teetering on the edge of control.

“Never said I wouldn’t.” His hands didn’t really have a direction, she realized; they were just trailing, almost aimlessly, but the heat left behind them in distinct lines crossed and overlapped and built and _built._ His fingers slid up her thighs, and she was languid, warm, heavy.

Then his knuckle ran along the hot seam between her thighs and her hips twitched, hard, and she gasped.

“Take off your shirt.”

Jaax’a fumbled, the motions awkward while lying on her belly, but she wriggled out of it and her bra for good measure. She felt Corso’s hot gaze on her back, his smile, and his finger rubbed her again, still separated from her desperate skin by a thin layer of cloth, rapidly growing thinner thanks to the wetness spreading from her sex. Her breath hitched.

His hands moved, then, and slid beneath the edges of her panties, sliding them up so that the fabric no longer covered the round curves of her ass. She wiggled only half-intentionally when the fabric bunched between the muscles there, putting pressure almost-not-quite _-dammit-_ not where she wanted it, and he rumbled again, half a chuckle and half in hunger, his hot, oil-slicked hands sliding higher, his fingers digging into her flesh.

The places where the oil had sat the longest were tingling, nearly burning, nearly enough to make her want to slap at her skin, but when combined with the teasing brushes of his hands closer, closer, closer, they only built on the slow burn in the cradle of her hips. She realized, belatedly, that her relaxation was gone, her hands fisted in the sheets, breathing quick, unsteady.

The corner of her brain that had any possibility of rational thought left piped up. _The fuck, Jaax_ _’a? What happened to shy Corso? What happened to_ you? _Since when does a man_ _’s touch make you want to weep with want?_

 _Stop being so fucking poetic,_ bit back the other voice that lived inside her head. _That touch has_ always _made you want to weep with want, when it_ _’s like this. It_ _’s just that scumbag tried to take it away, for a while._

_But what if_ _—_

_Fuck the_ what ifs _. This is_ Corso _._

Dimly, Jaax’a noticed Corso’s roaming hands had stopped, and the radiating _lovewantneed_ coming almost tangibly from him had twisted into _loveconcernwhat_ _’swrong?_ “Jaax?”

_But_ _—_

_No. No but._ Corso. _All Corso._ Something twisted hard in Jaax’a’s chest, something that made her want to sob, with what she didn’t know. It was an ache that wanted to make her crawl inside his skin with him, a want that was so deep it was totally foreign yet so natural. _He_ _’s yours. He_ _’s safe. You_ _’re safe._ Safe. _Fuck it, Jaax, get a grip, girl, you_ _’re SAFE._

The other voice had been shrinking back, hiding, and with that final blow it retreated into the cave it lived in, one that had grown substantially smaller and harder to get out of as of late.

“Jaax?” Corso’s voice was all concern, now, and Jaax’a lifted her head from the pillow, blinking. Her hand was in his, and he gripped it tightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, m’good.” She swallowed, blinking, realizing there were tears in her eyes. She looked over to see he was lying beside her, now, his free hand on her back, and she wondered absently if she’d have a tingly handprint across her spine. Probably.

“You sure?”

She swallowed, blinking at the wetness that clung to her lashes. “Just… my brain, doing things.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s… I still have… conversations,” she said, cringing at the words. “About all this.”

Bless him, he understood. “Us?”

“Not exactly. Well, yes. Sex, mostly.”

Silence replied to her. _Well, this just got awkward._

“Jaax, I haven’t… we haven’t… fuck, stars, _please_ don’t tell me I did somethin’ y’didn’t want, even a little—“

“No, Corso. Not at all.” She wiggled sideways, then, so that she was touching him along the length of her body, the planes of his torso and legs along the sides of hers. She needed his skin against hers. “There’s still part of me that… doesn’t think I deserve this, I guess. After what happened to me.”

 _“Jaax._ _”_ There were a hundred sentiments in the way he said her name.

“I love you, Corso,” she said, not knowing what else to say, and that deep ache in her chest pinged again. _Is this what they mean when they talk about heartstrings?_

“Galaxies, Jaax’a,” he murmured, and squirmed an arm underneath her and pulled her over him. He was shaking. “How is it that you’re always th’one reassuring _me_ about this when it happened t’ _you_?”

“I already learned to live with it.” _Sort of._ Their heartbeats thudded together, in synch for the span of three beats before they slid out of rhythm again. “Sorry I ruined your plan.”

His chest stuttered beneath her in an attempt at a chuckle. “S’ok, darlin’. There’s always another time.”

She hummed a variety of agreement, but her body didn’t really agree, though; most of the oil’s heat had faded from her skin, but it still thrummed where it counted, slinking with langorous grace through her blood. Long minutes later she shifted and Corso’s breath hitched in a way that was rapidly growing familiar.

“Is now another time?” she asked, running her lips along his neck, and his murmured reply was as husky as she expected it to be.

It was the work of a moment between the two of them for her to slide out of her underwear and then Corso’s hands were sliding over her again, fingertips digging gently into her skin, her smooth muscles pushing them back away again as she undulated softly against his hips. A low groan worked its way out of his throat, his erection building up a steady pulse against the rise of her mound, still trapped in his boxers. Suddenly he gripped her hips, rather firmly, and held her still. “Stars, Jaax. Hold up.”

“Already?” she teased, taking the skin covering his collarbone gently between her teeth, and he shuddered.

“Not hardly,” he rumbled, but there was a thread of desperation, there. “I need to feel you.”

She slid off of him and it took him just a moment to rid himself of the excess fabric, flinging it away to hit the wall. She smiled and pondered the merits of touching him with her hands or yielding to her desire to climb back on top of him when he pushed her gently on to her stomach again, communicating his desire for her to stay there with a gentle kiss to her spine. Then the oiled hands were back and she sighed. He wasn’t taking the same amount of time, now, not focusing on bringing her through a languid stupor and back into delicious tension, but she didn’t mind, though admittedly she was curious, since he didn’t need to spend much time courting her body. Then he ran the fingers of one hand along the cleft that ran along her ass, finding all sorts of interesting reactions she’d swear she’d never had before, stopping just short of where she really, really hoped he’d go. And then another finger, pressing deliberately, firmly, on her clit.

She realized belatedly he’d put a fresh coat of oil on his hands before he did either and _oh fuck_ there came the heat, the fire.

Dimly she noticed him wiping his hands quite thoroughly on a towel as suddenly sweat broke out on her forehead and chest, along the supple column of her spine, heat searing through her, spicy need and want and _oh_. She realized she was quivering.

“ _Fuck_ , Jaax, if I’d’ve known this stuff would do this to you…” His fingers finally kissed her slick wet core and she groaned into the pillow, the noise ending in a hiss.

“U-used it much, h-have you?”

“Makes cleanin’ my blaster a little more fun, if y’catch my meanin’,” he said, tapering off to a shy mumble at the end, and despite herself a rough laugh escaped her chest.

“So th-that’s what they call it, these days?” The question ended in a high-pitched whine as he touched her again.

The talk ended and gentle murmurs began instead as he kissed his way up the backs of her thighs, nosed her lower back, caressed her skin, his fingers always taking advantage of any pauses to tease her. Then he propped her hips up on a pair of pillows and she looked back over her shoulder at him, her lower lip between her teeth.

“Thought it might be easier on your leg?”

She thought for a moment. “Yeah. Just… slow.”

“If this… reminds you—“

“Not really. I’ll tell you.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise, Corso,” and there was all seriousness and no trace of _I_ _’ll agree to whatever you want, just fuck me_ in her voice.

He kissed his way down her back again, a thumb rubbing slow circles over her clit, and she was more than ready when he eased into her. She threw her head back and absently Corso admired the way her spine arched, but any thought was wiped clean when a high-pitched keen split the heavy-breathed silence. He realized it was her, propped up on her elbows so she could somehow get air into her lungs with her hips in the air, wrapped around his cock, and then she was pushing back against him, having managed to get a leg wrapped around his, and he gave up on trying to keep his back straight and bent over her. The muscles of her lower back and pelvis shuddered and her breath shot straight out of her lungs, hard, and he guessed he’d hit a good spot. She was slick and hot and there was a little tingle going from the oil that had found its way down (he was smart enough to avoid direct application), and stars but if he wasn’t blown away by just how amazing this woman was, not to mention how she felt wrapped around him, their skins both slick and tingly now, sliding against each other, sweat and heat and sex and--

“Oh… oh yes… _fuck_ , Corso, _fuck_ _—“_

“On it, Captain,” he told her, roughly, in her ear, unable to resist, and she responded by meeting his thrust firmly, somehow tilting her hips so he slid even further within her, and there was nothing he could do; she gripped him tightly with muscles he didn’t even think were real and he felt his release ripped out of him by the roots, hitting him so hard he couldn’t do anything but spill inside of her. She felt it, too, and rocked hard on him, and he was about to feel guilty but then her voice came close to splitting his eardrums and her head came back so far it rested on his shoulder as he slumped over her, and he sighed, content.

He had enough energy to roll away and hand her the towel, pulling her close to him, her back flush against his belly, before he buried his nose in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin and hair and the tease of their mixed arousal, and dozing off. She felt his breathing steady out against her back, feeling the steady movement of his chest against her, and sleep suddenly came to her, too, warm and welcoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My excuses for the delay are as follows: 1) Christmas; 2) getting Ratchet and Clank: Into the Nexus for Christmas (good boyfriend); 3) promptly getting sick; 4) getting the Mass Effect Trilogy (!!); 5) boyfriend getting sick; 6) see 4. Lots and lots of 4.
> 
> But hopefully the above fun made up for it. Oh, and Happy New Year.


	29. Interlude: Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there anyone out there?
> 
> Oh, joy of joys, there is!
> 
> I have been taking a break from the SWTOR 'verse in general (blame my new Mass Effect addiction). This might or might not be because I theoretically have to do… something… with Hoth. Erm.
> 
> Hoth was really stinkin' pointless for the Smug story, besides getting Guss, and… I don't like Guss. I don't know how I'd write him. He isn't in the 90 pages I have written post-Hoth. Not a word. So. I am making Executive Authorial Decisions in regards to Hoth, and then I shall proceed with the 90+ pages of NEW! STORY! MATERIAL!
> 
> In the meantime, have a dose of fluffy Jaax/Corso h/c, tying up ends that were never tied in-game.
> 
> And if you like Mass Effect (FShep/Garrus), go poke at my author profile.
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL.

Corso’s comm rang, and he answered it. Jaax’a looked up from her datapad when he left the room with it almost in a daze. On a hunch—call it a sixth sense, pinging in her lower spine—she followed him, a couple of minutes later. She could hear vaguely through the door that he was in their cabin.

When the closing chirrup and ensuing silence signaled his call was over, she waited a good minute, then touched her palm to the door panel. It slid open, unlocked, and she stepped in, closing and locking it behind her. “Corso?”

He looked up at her, stricken, something overwhelming in his face. “Rona’s gone.”

Jaax’a understood that this was a final kind of gone, not just temporary, and came and sat beside him on the bed, pulling him close. Soon she felt trickles of wetness touching her shirt to her skin beneath his cheek. She rocked gently, holding him as best she could. Eventually his uneven breathing slowed and he sighed, fumbling for her hand and holding it tight. “Do you want to go to Corsucant?” she asked. “Say goodbye?”

“Can’t,” he said. “She… passed a few weeks ago. Nobody claimed her, so... Word finally got ‘round to someone who knows me.”

There was a heavy question in the room, but Jaax’a didn’t voice it; it would come out on its own, in time.

“You called it,” he said, staring at the floor. “Only way out was wi’us or in a body bag.” He shivered and his voice weakened as he spoke again. “Security caught her with a vest full o’spice, worked a deal to let her go if she snitched. Found her dead with a vibro in her back three days later.”

“She made her choice, Corso,” Jaax’a said, sliding her fingers in between his dreadlocks. “Plenty of people die for less.”

“I know,” he said, quietly. “Doesn’ make it hurt less.” She had nothing to say to that, and so she just held him to her, fingers roaming over his skin, humming softly. He shuddered. “I’m alone, Jaax. I’m the only Riggs left.”

“You’re not alone, hon,” she said quietly, against his temple.

He looked up at her and sighed. “I’m not, am I. I’ve got you.” He found her other hand and squeezed it. “An’… an’ maybe there will be another Riggs or two, someday.”

There was a quiet hope in his voice, and with the way he was searching her face she found her stomach winding itself into a knot. _He_ _… he wants kids, that doesn_ _’t surprise me, but_ _… with me?_ A wave of absolute terror washed over her, but there was something else, too, a spark of realization that maybe, she thought, could be hope.

She set it aside, filing it away in the cabinet she stashed such worrisome thoughts in, and squeezed his hands in return, smiling. He leaned against her once more. “I… I need t’just… be, a little.”

“Okay,” she said. “You want me to go?”

He looked thoughtful. “No.”

She toed off her boots and scooted back on the bed to recline against the pillows; he followed suit and she patted her hip. He went to her, a grateful breath easing out of his lungs, and she slid her arms around him once more, his head resting on her chest. For once it was her steady heartbeat beneath his ear soothing his own thumping heart, her arms providing him balm, and when another wave of grief washed over him he didn’t resist it, cradled against her body and anchored to her as he was. She kissed his forehead and stroked his hair as he let go of the last of the family he’d known.

But there would be more, one day, she thought, and cast her senses down to the cradle of her hips, where, for so many women, life could grow. As far as she knew, she wasn't in that contingent, not anymore. But there were children on every planet, in every city, that needed even the tenuous stability that they could give.

_Someday._


	30. Hoth

“Hoth. Really? _Hoth?_ _”_

Bowdaar replied with something more unintelligible than usual and disappeared back into the hold.

“Jaax, Hoth is _cold._ Really cold. Like—“

“Lose-your-manhood cold?” she replied, voice so sweet it was sharp. She was pulling on additional layers designed to minimize heat loss and had rustled up a pair of heavily insulated boots; Corso approved.

“Yes!”

“Poor dear. I guess us ladies will have to go deal with the wampas ourselves.” Jaax’a flashed Corso a smile, then glanced to where Akaavi waited, leaning against the wall, looking… well, downright terrifying. She’d donned a black hooded robe, heavy armor underneath, techstaff over her shoulder, her eyes glittering. “Nice, Akaavi. Ready?”

A sharp nod answered and Jaax’a hefted her pack. “Keep her safe, huh, Corso?”

“What, th’ _Sunsoarer_? I think she’s fine. Space is colder’n this. Keep yourself safe, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She hesitated after Akaavi, and Corso came to her, sighing against her hair. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

Jaax’a chuckled in reply and he kissed her, firmly, before he let her go.

 

“Dammit,” Jaax’a hissed into the wind as it blew another spray of stinging ice against what of her skin was exposed. They were in the middle of a sheet of endless ice and snow—which was all that the damned planet was in the first place, really—and trying to fight _pirates_ , of all things. The Republic wanted her to find some pieces of some prototype weapon and also find out whatever wondrous shielding tech the pirates had, and--while they were at it--investigate something having to do with a Mon Calamari. He was definitely one of the shadier characters she’d come across in her time in the galaxy; she’d set aside that fight for now.

Akaavi was a largely silent companion, Jaax was finding, but solid and steadfast and ferocious. She was happy to throw herself into the fray, whipping her techstaff in blinding arcs of light, and between Jaax’a’s blaster, scattergun, and healing tech to support them through the occasional glancing blow, the pair steadily worked through the waves of pirates.

The holocomms were spotty; she sent the occasional text-only message to Corso and received the same in turn. Three days on-planet had returned them to Aurek Base, smelling thoroughly of tauntauns and in need of showers. The lieutenant in charge asked them to tackle one last thing—simple, really; just a quick out-and-back to replace a transformer on a malfunctioning comm relay.

The technical work was easy for Jaax’a, and the relay was back up in short order. The issue came as they made to leave, however. Akaavi’s tauntaun reacted first, shifting urgently beneath the Mandalorian, and then Jaax’a’s screamed and tried to run.

“About time,” Jaax’a grumbled as she pulled her blaster pistol free and checked her scattergun was ready in its holster before sliding off her mount and hobbling it. Akaavi was already crouched in the snow, waiting.

The wampa appeared out of the flurries of snow, far closer to the tauntauns than Jaax’a wished. She tried to attract the wampa’s attention before it decided their transportation was dinner; one swipe with a massive paw, however, left one doomed tauntaun screaming. The injury wasn’t deep enough to kill, though, and so Jaax’a fired precisely, two shots to the skull, and the tauntaun slumped slowly to the snow.

Akaavi was circling the wampa, who was intent on the remaining tauntaun; the creature was moaning in fear, straining against the hobble which kept it still. Jaax’a moved carefully to it and pulled the saddle free, then unhobbled the beast. It remained still--apparently fear as well as cold could freeze a tauntaun. 

The wampa roared and swung a paw at Akaavi, who dashed out of the way before darting in and letting her swinging techstaff meet the side of its head with a crunching _thwack_. The brisk report of Jaax’a’s scattergun replied to the wampa’s back. As they fought Jaax’a realized it was a younger wampa, much smaller than she’d expected, and the creature wasn’t sure what to do with two attackers. The beast couldn’t hold out long and slowly collapsed, white coat stained with blood, the snow trampled in a haphazard circle around it, rapidly changing color. The remaining tauntaun, having noticed its freedom, departed, groaning and whining as it ran off.

“Least we still have our supplies,” Jaax’a sighed, cutting the saddle free of the dead tauntaun and hefting the supply pack that had been strapped to it. “You alright?”

Akaavi was using handfuls of snow to wipe at her forearm; they came away pink and, suddenly, red. She pressed the next handful against her arm firmly and turned to Jaax’a. “Injured.”

“Badly?”

“I am unsure.”

Jaax’a frowned. “Those teeth and claws have got to have some awful bacteria on them. I don’t think a bandage is going to cut it.”

Akaavi tugged the arm of her cloak up and over her elbow; Jaax’a undid the woman’s bracers and cut the ruined arm of her thickly lined undersuit away. “Any deeper… that was a close one, Akaavi.”

The Mandalorian did not reply, simply nodded at the injury, and Jaax’a began to tend to it, beginning with fresh snow, water being limited, and following with kolto wipes. With the bleeding largely stopped she wrapped it firmly. After a dose of kolto injected directly above the injury, she used bandage tape to close the woman’s undersuit over the wrap to conserve heat.

“Let’s hike as far as we can, hope the comms point us the right way.” For an hour in silence Akaavi carried her heavier pack one-armed, but between the cold seeping in and the peculiar vertigo of the injected kolto sapping her strength, the weight became too much. Jaax’a knew she wouldn’t last with both packs and cast her sights around them for someplace to take shelter in.

“Alright. We’re not getting anywhere. There’s a windbreak there—we have the emergency tent.”

Akaavi nodded and followed Jaax’a’s trail. The drifts were past their knees in places; behind the rocky outcropping it thinned to scant inches. Akaavi began unpacking the emergency shelter as Jaax’a pushed snow against the outer edge of the rock to curve the wind further around them. She set a beacon at the base of the snow slope where their tracks met the makeshift camp; hopefully somebody passing by might notice.

Between the tent and emergency blankets they were merely cool, not thoroughly chilled, in the shelter. Jaax’a activated her holomap and sighed. “It’s probably a few hours’ hike further to the base. I put out a beacon, but it’s falling dark, nobody sane would be out in this.”

“I will rest, heal, be ready for the morning,” Akaavi said, quietly, and lapsed into half-drowsing silence. Jaax’a sighed. It was going to be a long night.

 

“Hello? Anybody there!”

Jaax’a shook herself awake at the shouts outside. She was slow and cold, but still shivery. _All systems online. Could be worse._

Akaavi’s fathomless eyes peered out of her blanket-and-cloak cocoon as Jaax’a moved to the sealed tent flap and unfastened it, slipping quickly into the bitingly chilled air. “Hello!”

More snow had thoroughly buried their tracks, only the flashing edge of the beacon showing; Jaax’a had to punch through the drift she’d piled up the evening before. A Republic squad on tauntauns waited on the well-traveled path a hundred yards away, holding two tauntauns—ostensibly the mounts of the two troopers working at the snow banked against the rock on the other side of the beacon. They looked up when she broke through the snow and hollered another greeting against the wind.

“Ma’am! You alright?”

“A little chilly. Wampa got one of our tauntauns, the other ran off. Sorry about that, borrowed ‘em from you guys up at the base.”

“It happens more often than you’d think. We’re on our way there from patrol.”

Jaax’a turned back to see Akaavi quickly packing up the emergency tent. “Should only be a minute here. Holed up in an emergency tent overnight. Hey, ‘kaavi, you find any ration bars?” One sailed through the air in reply and Jaax pocketed it, then shut down the beacon, folding it neatly before stowing it in her pack and hefting it.

“Here—if we spread the gear out we can get you back on a taun. James, Smith, ditch your bags, you can share.” One of the mounted troopers took Jaax’a’s bag and tossed it up behind him; several others did the same, rearranging until two tauntauns carried no extra packs. Jaax’a and Akaavi climbed up behind the slighter troopers riding them and shortly they set off back to base, Jaax’a trying to get her teeth through a mostly-frozen ration bar.

 

“Oh, thank god, _kaff_ ,” Jaax’a sighed happily as she gripped a steaming mug. Akaavi was having her arm tended to by the base medic, just to be safe, and Jaax’a was waiting in the cantina, which was less of a cantina and more of a tapcaf. She’d called Corso, who’d been expecting them on last night’s shuttle and was less than pleased with her for not checking in, though (in her defense) she couldn’t have. They had another hour or so until the next shuttle up to the orbital station and she planned to spend it attempting to get warm.

Akaavi appeared silently beside her, settling into a seat and nodding to the server and then Jaax’a’s mug. Her arm was bandaged again, but she moved her wrist and hand more fluidly and the bandage was less bulky. “Everything good?”

“Fine.” Akaavi sipped her own kaff.

“Shuttle’s in an hour. I’m thinking we should find something to eat besides frozen ration bars.”

“Agreed.”

“Still have breakfast,” the Twi’lek server said. “Reconstituted, but it’s edible.”

“I’m sure I’ve had worse.”

“Don’t bet on it.” The server disappeared into the kitchen and returned several minutes later with two plates of what had at one point been eggs, tubers, and chopped nerf steak. While somewhat diminished in color, taste and texture, it was hot food. When the shuttle announcement came, Jaax’a pushed a small stack of credits towards the Twi’lek and the women departed, Akaavi a silent shadow behind Jaax’a. The troopers accompanying them up to the station cast her hesitant glances.

Corso was waiting just outside the docking bay, arms crossed over his chest. “You spent th’night _outside_ on Hoth?”

“Behind a substantial windbreak in an emergency tent, Corso,” Jaax’a told him, tartly. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

“Stars, Jaax. I was worried.” He didn’t relax until he wrapped his arms around her, though his nose wrinkled almost immediately. “Okay, I don’ mind smells—rontos bein’ what they are—but _phew!_ _”_

“Tauntaun. Hot shower required, immediately.”

“Want company?” He grinned.

She laughed, smiling at him. Akaavi said nothing for a long moment until she caught up to Jaax’a, just before they went up the stairs to the _Sunsoarer_ _’s_ hatch, and murmured under her breath, just for Jaax’a’s ears. The smuggler had to strain to hear it.

“Men.”


End file.
